


Take Me Away (Though I'd Rather You Not)

by harlequinblueflag



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Brownies, Derek must've gotten his personal bubble popper from Peter, Elves, F/M, Fae & Fairies, I can see it since Peter is so creepy, It's not really Peter/Stiles but if you want to see it that way go ahead, Kidnapping, M/M, This thing might get long, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequinblueflag/pseuds/harlequinblueflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's decided (again) that he wants to start his own pack, but since he's not a crazy-ass-shithead anymore, he won't kill his last surviving family member in order to do so.<br/>Well, Stiles thinks he's still a little crazy, if not a shithead, for recruiting (kidnapping) him.</p><p>NOTE: On hiatus as of 2016. I may come back and rewrite the entire thing, but it is just as likely that I'll never finish this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unhinged

**Author's Note:**

> I'm somewhat stuck on my other story, so I thought another would help to get my brain back into gear. It's actually working, I'm genuinely shocked.  
> This is my first Teen Wolf fanfic, so please bare with me on this. Oh, and I did all the editing on my own, so if there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out. I don't always see my mistakes, and it takes someone else to notice them.  
> This chapter is a little short, but the rest of the chapters should be a bit longer. I've actually got an entire plot planned out, so it should start to grow soon.  
> Please enjoy :)

Stiles hasn't seen much of Derek in the past few months, and he tries not to let it bug him. He really does.

It's not like they've spent a lot of time together, in dire, life-threatening situations, or anything like that. Or that they've sacrificed themselves for one another ten times too many. Or that they've worked so harmoniously and smoothly together in the past that one would think that Stiles actually plans this shit out.

Or anything like that.

Not that Stiles is a little bitter, or anything.

No sir, he would never be bitter over the fact that once Stiles had helped to save the day (again), and the immediate threat was neutralized, Derek would proceed to act as if Stiles didn't exist.

He would never be bitter about that – well, okay, maybe just a little, tiny, _teensy_ bit bitter. Though, to be fair, Scott was a part of Derek's pack now. Well, sort of a part of the pack. He joined in on the pack meetings, he hung out with the pack puppies, and he trained with them on a frequent basis. So, even if Scott _denied_ being a part of the pack, even if he refused to admit it, he technically was a pack member.

The point being, of course, that where Scott goes, Stiles goes. They're a package deal, and everyone knows it.

So Derek ignoring him is starting to get a little old. He refuses to allow Stiles to join in on the pack meetings, he won't let him even _observe_ the training, and apparently, according to Isaac, he even growls a little when he hears that Stiles has hung out with the pack. Which is just ridiculous.

Still, Stiles was handling it pretty well. That is, he was, until he realized that something is going on. He has no idea what, despite his spectacular researching skills, but he knows something is happening. Only, no one will _tell_ him.

Scott, the lovable dufus, insists that everything is fine, despite the fact that there seem to be a lot more pack meetings happening, and a whole lot more training.

Derek is preparing for something, and he is doing one hell of a job keeping Stiles out of the loop.

So yeah, Stiles is a little bitter, which is rather a hard feat to accomplish. Stiles is probably one of the most forgiving guys out there. It's something he's a little proud of, in fact. Try to kill me, Scott? It's okay, the moon was full, and we all know how werewolves get when they're PMSing. You've been a complete douchebag your entire life, Jackson? Well, the adoption blues are pretty hard to overcome, in addition to being a lizard-slave-monster. I'll cut you some slack, this time. What's that, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica? Your personalities have done a complete one-eighty (Boyd a little less so)? That's okay, you have Tall, Dark, and Broody for an alpha. That cannot be easy. Not to mention, your lives kinda sucked, even before becoming werewolves. Not that I'm judging. No sir. Completely neutral here, I swear.

Stiles is a pretty forgiving guy, so for Derek to cause the massive bitterness creeping inside his heart... well, let's just say, Derek better start apologizing soon, before Stiles lets loose a nasty-gram or three.

Stiles is so forgiving, in fact, that he even tolerates Peter. Well, alright, everyone tolerates Peter, but that's partly because he's Derek's uncle, partly because he died and certain party members still feel guilty about it, and partly because he's useful. Also, perhaps because half the pack never actually suffered at his hand, and are only hearing about the situation after the fact. Stiles is sure that helps.

The only one who isn't forgiving is Scott, which is completely understandable. One hundred percent understandable, in fact.

Stiles was a little surprised to find out that Lydia was alright with Peter hanging about, and he simply _had_ to ask.

“It's simple, really. Without Peter, I would never have found out about the supernatural, because you idiots are incapable of sharing the secret with the most beneficial, facilitative person in town. Yes, he caused me emotional trauma, and yes, I might have lost my mind for a moment or two, but in the long run, he's opened my eyes to the truth. I don't like the man, and I won't forgive him, but I do trust his skills, as well as his knowledge. He's useful.”

Well, trust Lydia to ignore her personal feelings in favor of knowledge and expertise.

It is because of this, that Stiles doesn't scream for help when he finds Peter sitting at his desk, sipping coffee from his favorite mug. Peter smirks when Stiles fixes his gaze onto the mug. _Stupid werewolf super sniffers_ , Stiles curses internally. Peter probably worked out that Stiles only ever really uses that _particular_ mug, which he has his dirty little paws all over.

“If you're done having an affair with my mug, then please, tell me why you're here.”

Peter's smile only widens, and Stiles almost wants to comment “my, what big teeth you have.”

“Little Red Riding Hood. _Really_ Stiles?” Huh, Stiles must've been babbling his thoughts out-loud again. “You have been. This entire time, actually. Werewolf super sniffers? I almost want to use that in the future, simply to see how my dear nephew reacts.”

“He'd probably just roll his eyes, or tell you to shut up.”

“He'd know I got it from you, I think. It'd be quite a joyful experience, seeing him... what is the term? Oh yes, 'freak out.'”

“So you live to torment him. Hoorah for you. Great job. Don't drag me into it.” Stiles shook his head, as he set his bag down, and kicked off his shoes. “You still haven't told me why you're here. All I've gotten from this visit is snark, and a sense that you like to annoy everyone within your peripheral view.”

“Oh, I like to annoy even those I can't see. Werewolves have great hearing as well as super sniffers.”

“I know.” Duh. Even if his best friend wasn't a werewolf, that was one of the few things experts seemed to agree upon. “I'll only ask you one more time, before I start adding mountain ash to the coffee. Why are you here?”

“To inform you of our current dilemma. You see, my nephew seems insistent that you be left out of it. He even managed to convince your dearest friend, Scott, to go along with it.”

It stung a little, just a little, to hear that Scott had left Stiles out of something else. This was turning into a pattern. “Okay, and what is it? Why are _you_ telling me?”

“I'm telling you, because you need to know. Derek seems to think that by leaving you out of the loop, that you'll be safe. He seems convinced that you need to be shielded. Complete rubbish, but there you have it.”

Stiles nodded, and chose to sit down on the edge of his bed. It seemed that Peter wasn't going to attack him, so there was no need to be standing at alert any longer. He motioned for Peter to continue, once he was comfortable.

“There is a pack, an infamously dangerous pack amongst our kind, known as the Alpha Pack.” This was news to Stiles, but then it would be, if Derek was actively attempting to keep him out of the loop. “This pack is, obviously, an alpha only pack. I don't suppose I have to explain any further? You're usually the one to grasp a concept the quickest, apart from Lydia.”

Stiles ignored the compliment, and thought for a moment. “So, this pack? Obviously bad, if Derek is training in preparation for their arrival. Unless they've already arrived, which would explain the increase of animal deaths I've heard about recently. So Derek is training like crazy to keep everyone safe... and he thought to keep this a secret?”

“As I said, not his wisest move.”

“No shi- wait a minute. There was that time, a few months ago, where Erica and Boyd disappeared for a few days...”

“Ah, I knew you were my favorite-”

“Shut up. I saw them at the Argent's, when I had been kidnapped – which is a totally frequent thing, what the hell – but, they should have been released pretty soon after we killed Gerard. So why did they take so long to come home? Unless they were captured, and _didn't tell me?”_ Stiles took a moment to compose himself, upset that people had been lying to him for months (while also trying to ignore the nagging guilt that he hadn't told his father about the supernatural). “Uh, dude, why are you clapping?”

“I thought it appropriate, since you appeared a little upset. Encouragement, and all that.”

“I'm not sure I want your twisted encouragement, but thanks anyway.” Peter nodded, his creepy smile never once leaving his face. Stiles counted that as a good thing. If Peter ever stopped smiling, then that meant they were in deep shit. “So, how did Erica and Boyd escape? What do we know from their descriptions of the wolves? What has Derek even managed to _do_ in the last three months, other than poorly train his betas?”

“Ah, finally. Someone who asks the right questions.”

“They're the obvious questions. Are you telling me that no one has been asking the obvious?”

“It is actually rather terrifying, being a part of these meetings. Nothing is ever accomplished. Derek really needs to stop keeping his two most intelligent members out of the loop.”

“Two most?” Stiles thought for a minute. “You mean Lydia? He's got her out of the loop, too? Seriously? How is that even possible? She's terrifying!”

“He seems to think that the humans should be kept as far away from the danger as possible. What he's failed to realize, is that the alphas already know who you are. They know of your connection to the wolves. Keeping you out of the loop only serves to keep you from protecting yourself.”

“Okay. So, we know that Derek is an idiot. Can you answer my previous questions now?”

“Oh, there is no need.” Peter is still smiling, but Stiles can feel his metaphorical hackles raising. The man set his favorite mug down, and rose slowly. “I'll be leaving soon.”

“Without answering my questions? Fine, I'll get the answers elsewhere.”

“I'm leaving town, Stiles. For good.”

“Leaving, leaving? For good?” Well, Stiles isn't about to stop him, but why now? Is he sure that Derek will lose against the alpha pack, and wants to be long gone before they attack?

“Yes. I plan to start my own pack. A proper pack. Without hormonal, emotionally traumatized teenagers.”

“You're not gonna kill Derek, then?”

“Heavens, no.” Stiles breaths a sigh of relief at that. He and Derek may not have seen each other recently, but it was clearly due to good intentions. Stupid, but good.

Stile felt his heart clearing a little, and no longer felt bitter.

“Death had one benefit, Stiles. It helped to clear my mind. I no longer feel... unhinged.”

“Well, that's great. I'm sure you'll be very happy. Away. From here. For good.” Stiles really wanted this man out of his bedroom now. His creepiness meter was rising to a dangerously high point.

“I will be, especially with you along for the ride.”

Stiles paused, tilting his head the side. “You mean, especially since I'll be here. In Beacon Hills.”

“No Stiles, I mean for you to be a part of my pack.”

“One, no. Two, why would you tell me about the alpha pack if you intended for me to leave? Three, why me? Four, no.”

“I told you of the pack in order to observe your reactions. You are clearly the cleverest of the pack, and I wish to have that asset in my own.”

“I'm not going with you, though. And you can't force me. The others know that I wouldn't leave with you willingly. They'd come after us.”

Peter smiled brighter, which told Stiles it was time to get off the bed, and back up towards his door. “It will take your friends a while to notice that you are gone. I chose a Friday specifically for this purpose. You won't be missing at school, your father works late and will assume you are with friends over the weekend, and all of your friends are busy. As usual. Seriously, Stiles, when was the last time you actually spent time with them, outside of school?”

Stiles shook his head, as he backed closer to the door. He was not taking his eyes off the guy. “They have lives. It's perfectly normal. And Scott is dealing with a lot right now. It's perfectly fine if he doesn't have time for me every day.”

“So forgiving. A useful aspect. I hope you will one day forgive me for taking you away.”

“They will notice I'm gone, though. When that happens, they'll come for me.” Stiles repeatedly told himself that he would _not_ forgive Peter. Never.

“They'll be too busy with the alpha pack by that point. Your disappearance will make a great enough distraction, that I have no doubt that the alphas will attack.”

“You know that they're in danger, and you're still going to leave?!”

“It is not my fight, now. My nephew will no doubt survive this encounter. I trust his skills. He is a Hale, after all.”

“I'm not going with you! Where would we go? I'll kick and scream if I have to while you drag me away! I've got wolfsbane, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

“My dearest Stiles, you won't be conscious when I take you away.”

Stiles bumped against the door, and took that as his cue to run the hell away. The instant he turned around, though, he felt hands upon him. Before he could react, the world around him went black.


	2. Far From Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really not intentional, but the Peter/Stiles moments keep writing themselves. That's not my endgame, but I guess I'll enjoy it for now. I think most of them are just the result of Peter being Peter.  
> I hope you enjoy :) As promised, a slightly longer chapter.

Everything was fuzzy, when Stiles came to. It was not just his sight that blurred before him, but all of his senses. He could hear, but any sound that his brain decided to process sounded miles away. His eyes fluttered open, and he was surprised by how much monumental effort it required. His whole being felt disconnected, and he couldn't seem to get a handle on any of his normal functions.

“Hwha?” Great, his voice worked, but all he could manage was gibberish. Stiles sighed and tried to straighten in his seat, but found himself incapable of doing so.

 _There are many things wrong with this scenario,_ he laughed to himself. Once he was able to focus a little better, he realized _why_ he couldn't seem to move – or rather, why his hands weren't going anywhere, anytime soon.

He was in a car, unfamiliar and frankly, a little rundown. He was in the passenger seat, a blanket tucked firmly around his shoulders. Stiles knew exactly why it was there, too. He's the Sheriff's son. Stiles was more than aware what a pair of handcuffs felt like, what they sounded like, and he happened to be trapped by two of them. Thanks to the blanket, which he was too weak to shift, he couldn't tell exactly what each of his hands were handcuffed to, but they were plastered on both sides of the seat. Someone went to great lengths to incapacitate him.

Stiles wiggled around until hewas able to move himself into a more comfortable position. Once that had been taken care of, Stiles focused on the task of figuring out where he was. The car itself was ancient, but it looked like it might have been expensive once upon a time. A collector's item, then. His sense of smell started to function, once he put his mind to it, and Stiles realized the car had an herbal hint to it. Interesting.

Once aware of his immediate surroundings, Stiles shifted his gaze towards the lot the car was parked in. The car was parked outside a fast food restaurant, on the side of the highway. _Which highway_ , Stiles wondered. _How far am I from home?_

Stiles attempted to move his hands, just a few more times, before yielding to the damn handcuffs, and settling back into his seat. If he couldn't escape now, then there was no reason to squander his energy. He'd expended enough of it, as it was.

He jolted awake, a short while later, and wondered when he'd fallen asleep again. The driver's door opened, and Peter Hale slid into the car, a smile plastered to his face, as always.

Oh, that's right. Peter kidnapped him.

“What the hell did you do to me?” His words slurred, but he knew Peter could understand him just fine.

“I drugged you. I was a magic user, before my sanity slipped.”

“And now you've got your mojo back?”

“I never lost it, dear Stiles. How else would I be here, otherwise?”

“Oh, right. The resident zombie. Got it, got it.” Stiles felt a little drunk, and speculated that the drugs had something to do with it. “Where are we?”

“Nevada.”

“Ne-Nevada?! How long was I out?!” Stiles suddenly felt a lot more awake than he had before.

“A couple of days. I've masked our scent, so that the pack can't follow us. I've also tossed out our cell phones.”

Stiles shook his head, a little dazed. A couple of days? His dad was probably freaking out by that point. “We have to go back.”

“No Stiles, we do not.”

“No, seriously, my dad is probably having a heart attack, like, this very moment. I have to go back.”

“Perhaps in a few years. Once you're an established member of my pack.”

“I'm not joining your stupid pack! You're not even an alpha.”

“Which is why we're in Nevada.” Peter hand-waved the issue.

“You're going to kill some poor soul out here, then?” Peter was still insane, despite his insistence that such was no longer the case.

“No, we're headed towards a magical forest.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Stiles, I thought you'd done your research. There is a charmed forest, in New York."

"New York?!"

"Yes Stiles, New York. At that forest, a wolf can become an alpha with the help of a mage.”

“So, no sacrificing involved?”

“No sacrificing of lives is necessary.”

“Well, fine. Where are you gonna find a mage?”

“I've already found one.”

“Huh. Well, I'd like to meet them, but really I should be getting home.”

“We'll speak more of the mage later.” Peter chuckled, while ignoring Stiles comment of returning home. Stiles listened to Peter laugh, and felt like he was missing something. After a few moments, Peter proceeded to pull out his meal. “This smells wretched. Do you truly love this sort of food?”

“I do. Sustenance intended for gods.” Stiles paused, as a thought dawned on him. “You know what kind of food I like? Seriously?”

“One must know how to feed their pack.” Peter nodded as he pulled out – no way. Curly fries.

“You horrible, horrible man. How am I supposed to eat with my hands out of the picture?” Peter's grin widened, and Stiles grimaced. “Oh, come on. That's disgusting. I am not getting hand fed, no way!”

“Well, if you insist.” Peter took a bite (damn him) of a curly fry, and then proceeded to pack them away again.

“You are not worthy of the curly fry.” Stiles muttered.

Peter laughed, before pulling out a key. “If you behave, I'll let you have one hand free.”

“One hand is good! One hand is all I need. What could I even do with just one hand?”

“More than to my liking, I'm afraid. Of course, that wouldn't be until far in the future. I have yet to train you for these types of situations.”

“Why don't we start that training now?”

“Why don't I put this key away?”

“Alright, alright! I'll take what I can get.” Peter nodded, before leaning over Stiles to free his right hand. Stiles was slightly grateful, though he'd never admit it, because he wasn't enjoying having his hand pressed between the door and the floor. Once his hand was free, he was able to sit up straighter, to his back's displeasure.

“Crap, by back aches. Did you forget that I'm human? If you leave us in one position for too long, we actually get stiff.”

“I'll make a note of it.”

Stiles glared at his captor, but didn't get a chance to retort, because curly fries! Peter had shoved the bag under his nose, and he could smell the deliciousness wafting towards him, beckoning for his full attention. “I hate you.” Stiles managed between bites, a curly fry hanging from his mouth as he spoke.

“I'm opting to ignore that, since you're obviously satisfied with my gift.” Stiles huffed at Peter in response, before turning his attention back to what truly mattered. “Do I need to leave you two alone? Is this about to transform into an indecent activity?”

“There'll be some transforming coming up. I forgot to tell you. Every full moon I transform into a great beast, who hunts the land in search of the perfect curly fry.” Stiles pondered his remark, when something about it started to bug him. “Oh crap, the full moon is coming up.”

“You don't actually transform, do you?” Peter drawled. He didn't look concerned, but then with their crazy lives, anything was possible.

“No stupid, but a certain psycho wolf does.” Stiles knew that calling his captor stupid or psycho probably wasn't the wisest move, but then Stiles had never had of lot self preservation skills. “How much control do you have on the full moon?”

“None whatsoever. I expect that I'll be chewing on my latest pack member, because I forgot the full moon was coming.” Stiles glared at Peter, before he shrugged. “Stiles, not only am I an adult who's had years to perfect my control, but I am also a born wolf. Do you really think I can't handle one night?”

“It was a legitimate concern. I don't plan to die any time soon.”

“Nor do I plan to chew on my latest toy.”

“Just don't bury me to save for later...”

“Dog jokes, Stiles?”

“Hey, you started that one. And I wasn't joking.” Stiles was actually, for once, very serious. He really didn't plan to die any time soon.

“I'll concede to that.”Peter turned the car on, and a faint earthy smell filled up the small space, drowning out the herbal scent. Stiles realized it must becoming from the air conditioning. “We'll travel for a few more hours, before I find us a place to spend the night.”

“I really don't feel like sleeping. I did enough of that.”

“Perhaps, but I'm sure your bladder is about to burst.” Why oh why did he remind Stiles of that fact. The minute he'd said it, Stiles started to feel the urge.

“You're a jerk.” Stiles mumbled around his burger.

“I aim to please.”

 

 

“Are you going to take off the handcuffs anytime soon?”

“I thought I'd leave them on, let people make their own assumptions about an older man dragging a young teenage boy into a motel.”

“Haha, very funny. Seriously, take them off.”

Peter leaned into Stiles' space, his eyes glowing faintly. “Remember that you are miles from home, in a shady area, with only yours truly for protection. Try to run, and you'll wish you'd stuck with me.” Peter paused, his fingers hovering over the handcuffs. “And that's if you think you can outrun a wolf.”

Stiles gulped, before nodding in agreement. He wasn't about to risk his life without appropriate defenses in place.Peter had specifically chosen a rundown motel, in hopes that no one would comment that an older man was indeed dragging a teenager into a room. Even if those weren't his intentions, it looked more than suspicious.

Peter nodded and uncuffed him. Just before he climbed out of the car, his eyes flashed once more in warning. Stiles took that as his cue to climb out as well and follow after his captor.

After making up some story about how they were a father and son enjoying a road trip, Peter and Stiles retired to their room. As soon as he was inside, Stiles dashed for the bathroom, Peter chuckling in his wake.

When Stiles reentered the bedroom, he saw one of his bags sitting upon a bed. “Seriously? You packed a bag? How did you even get me out of my room without anyone seeing?”

“I carried you out the window, and into the woods. Once you were safely in the car, I returned to your room to pack the essentials.”

“How awfully considerate of you.” Stiles glared, before digging through his pack. “At least I can change out of these clothes.”

“Indeed. They were starting to smell.”

“And whose fault is that?” Stiles snapped.

“In the morning you should take a shower. The drive afterwards will be more pleasant that way.”

“Of course. I don't want to inconvenience your sensitive super sniffers.” Stiles snarled as he pulled on his pajamas. Once he was changed, Peter tackled him to the bed. “Uh, Peter? I thought it wasn't going to be like that?” He heard a click, and glanced over to see that he was handcuffed to the bed. “Kinky.”

“A precaution. I don't want you sneaking out while I sleep.”

“Figured that out, thanks.” Stiles groaned, as he tried to find a comfortable position with one of his hands stretched out over the bed. “You're a jerk.”

“As you've told me, numerous times.” Peter yawned loudly as he settled into his own bed. “I haven't slept in days, so if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep.”

“Slumber away.” Stiles muttered into his pillow. “Jerk.”

“Good night, Stiles.”

“Night, psychowolf.”

Stiles rolled around until he found a comfortable position. After a few minutes, he heard a faint snoring, and noted that Peter was finally asleep. The jerk. One of these days Stiles was going to get his revenge, preferably with a pair of handcuffs and a whole lot of magical knockout drugs.

Stiles sighed, and rolled over, his thoughts running in every direction. He hadn't had time to see if Peter had grabbed his Adderall, before he'd found himself handcuffed to the bed. Part of him was worried about his dad. Stiles was worried if he was eating alright, or if he'd moved onto a junk food diet since his son had disappeared; Stiles didn't even want to consider if his father was eating at all, or if he had returned to his alcohol diet.

So much had happened to them over the years, and he was all his father had left. Yes, Stiles occasionally blamed himself for his mother's death, but that didn't seem to change his father's opinion of him. They were all they had, even if Stiles had gotten into the habit of lying to his father recently.

Another part of Stiles worried about the pack. Lydia was still new to everything, and even though Stiles trusted her coping abilities, it was probably harder for her with the token human missing. Derek wasn't the most forthcoming when it came to information (such as _telling_ Scott that he wasn't the one who bit him), and without the head researcher, Lydia would have to do her own research. She'd do well, of course, because Lydia was _brilliant_ , but it was always easier when they could compare notes.

Jackson was still new to everything as well, and some of (most of) the pack had not taken well to his newfound werewolf status. Lydia was all that he had, while he tried to learn his place (literally) amongst the wolves. The problem then circled back to the issue of Stiles not being there to assist Lydia with her research.

Still, Stiles was glad that they had each other. He'd realized, finally, that Lydia was never going to be interested in him, and though it had hurt, Stiles had been able to get over her.

Scott, the poor dear, was hopeless without guidance. He was smart, smarter than anyone ever gave him credit for, but he had come to rely upon Stiles for any and all information/help. He had Allison, though, so perhaps that would keep him safe for the time-being.

Stiles knew, though, that Scott was probably blaming himself over his disappearance. His dad was probably convinced it had something to do with his job, and Scott was probably convinced that it had to do with the Alpha Pack. They would both be wrong, but Stiles couldn't be there to ease their guilt.

Stiles wasn't all that close to Erica, Isaac, and Boyd, but they were still pack. The poor puppies were now all alone with Tall, Dark, and Broody (which Stiles had decided sounded perfect, and he used it whenever possible), which couldn't end well.

Derek had a massive stick up his ass, and while Stiles knew _why_ it was there, that didn't help the matter. It also probably didn't help that Stiles was incredibly eager to forgive the man at almost every opportunity. Part of why Stiles had been able to get over Lydia so quickly, was because he had a new crush, which seemed to grow with each passing day.

Derek was one big ball of guilt, and Stiles' disappearance would probably get thrown into the mosh pit of guilt, anger, sadness, and every other morose emotion the man seemed capable of projecting. Again, those poor puppies, who had to deal with this. Derek was probably moping even more, if that were possible.

Eventually, someone would link Peter's disappearance with Stiles' (probably Lydia), and then all hell would break loose. Peter was right. Stiles' disappearance would be distraction enough for the Alpha Pack to attack. They would probably wait a while, until the pack had run thin looking for Stiles, but they would attack.

Stiles needed to return home before that happened.

 

 

Stiles thanked the powers that be for creating locker room awkwardness. Without it, Stiles may never have recovered from seeing Peter fresh out of the shower.

Once he was dressed, Peter came over to unlock the handcuffs that Stiles had spent most of the night glaring at.

“Take a shower, and then dress quickly. We're leaving soon.”

Stiles grumbled as he made his way towards the bathroom, and growled a little louder when he saw that Peter had left him the smallest towel to use. Peter's snickering from the bedroom confirmed that he had done so on purpose.

“You're a jerk!” Stiles called out, as he stripped down and stepped into the shower.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Stiles startled, and peered around the shower curtain. Peter was standing at the doorway, his usual smile firmly in place. The creeper.

“I'd make a comment about peeping toms, but I'm starting to think that personal bubbles just aren't a Hale thing. Or a werewolf thing, for that matter. Or anyone's, now that I think about it. Do you know how many times I've been thrown up against a hard surface, recently? It's like a daily event.” Stiles finished rinsing off, and reached for his tiny towel.

“I'm sure everyone in Beacon Hills is just trying to appear more domineering towards you. You have a strong presence, it's hard to bully you.”

“Well... I... Thanks, I guess.” Whenever anyone other than Scott complimented him, it threw Stiles off guard. “I don't really care where we eat, just as long as we eat. I'm starving.”

“I'm sure. Hurry up.” Peter turned around, giving Stiles the chance to hop about and make an attempt at changing. He never was the most coordinated person.

Breakfast turned out to be coffee and muffins. Peter apparently was the type of wolf who still needed his caffeine in the morning, to Stiles' amusement. Not that he was complaining, since he was just as addicted to the stuff as his captor.

Coffee and cakes in tow, they set out towards their destination, their transportation a surprisingly quick little thing. Stiles set plan G in motion, after after he'd devoured most of his muffins: Annoy Peter Until He Turns This Car Around (not related to the parental preferred punishment phrase). Plans A through D had been horrible failures, and Stiles hadn't created a plan E or F. (He just didn't feel like using those letters at the time.)

“So, psychowolf, where is this 'enchanted forest,' anyway?”

“We should reach there by nightfall, if you stop begging for pit stops.”

“Hey, when a dude's gotta go, a dude's gotta go.”

“Except I can hear when you're lying, Stiles. You only needed to go once.”

“False. Speaking of which, I need to go again.”

“Stiles?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Or what, you'll rip my throat out with your teeth? Because let me tell you, Derek has threatened me with that line so many times, I don't think it works on me anymore. Not that he hasn't come up with other threats, either. I mean jeez, does you nephew think that just by shoving me against any hard surface will get me to submit-”

“So you're in love with my nephew?” Peter made a small, intrigued humming sound as he shifted gear, and sped the car up.

“No! I'm not.”

“Your heartbeat just skyrocketed, Stiles.”

“I don't know what your talking- Oh my god! Why are we speeding?!”

“We weren't making good time.”

“You're pissed. Oh my god, you're pissed that I like Derek. I'm sorry that I like your nephew, it's not something I can control. Well, I mean, I'm sure I've done a pretty good job controlling it recently, but that probably has something to do with the fact that I haven't _seen_ Derek, because he's an idiot. And of course, once I planned to go and do something about that, you decided to kidnap me, during the most inconvenient time – and I cannot believe that I now think there are convenient and inconvenient times for people to kidnap me. I mean, honestly-”

“Stiles!”

Stiles squeaked, and shut his mouth quickly.

“You're working yourself up into a panic attack. I'm not mad, I sped us up because we _are_ running behind. We're not even going that fast.”

“You're not mad that I like Derek?”

“No, because it hardly matters.”

“Hardly matters?”

“You're part of my pack now. If you ever see Derek again, it will be years from now. I'm sure I can find someone much better for you within that time.”

Stiles breathed deep, to calm himself down, and leaned against window. “I'm not gonna let that happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TommyboyNV kindly pointed out to me that Nevada to California is only a single day drive. I tend to fly everywhere, so I didn't consider this. I make mistakes like this all the time, so please, point them out.  
> According to my research, California to New York is about a five day drive, a little more or less depending upon how many pit stops you make. I decided that there are two entrances to the forest in the US. One in New York, and one in California. They can't use the California one, so they took the New York one. There are others all over the world.


	3. News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't as long as I hoped, but only because I liked the stopping point... sorry.  
> I've been asked a few times about Stiles' mystery suitor. He is a supernatural creature, but I'm pretty sure that's not much of a spoiler... everybody is supernatural in this series, it seems. Can anyone guess what he is? :)  
> I'm also planning two interludes, probably for the middle of the series. The first one will be from Scott's point of view. The second will be from Derek's.  
> Thank you everyone for all the comments <3

Stiles woke up when he felt the car rumble to a stop. “Wha? Where are we now? Why are we stopping? Are we there yet?” The days had been passing in much the same way, recently. Stiles would talk Peter's ear off, before passing out, only to be woken when they stopped somewhere for a gas refill or a bite to eat.

“No, Stiles. The car needs a refuel.” Peter got out of the car, and Stiles followed him once he was a little more awake.

“How far are we? Are we close?”

“It won't be long now. Just a few more hours, I expect.”

“Where is this forest, anyway? I've never heard of it.” Stiles was bursting with questions, like always.

“Only the supernatural can enter it, Stiles. It seems like a normal forest, but believe me, it's not. I'm taking us to the second closest entrance.”

“Second closest?” Stiles leaned against the car, while Peter pulled out the pump.

“The closest entrance was far too close to the Alphas for my comfort, as well as my nephew. I couldn't risk his spotting us leave. I took the roundabout route.”

“So, what? Is this forest all over the world? You just have to find the right entrance? Is it in a sort of pocket dimension?”

“Yes, actually. We once called them the doorways to another realm. People are starting to forget where the entrances are, sadly. Very few know of them, and those who do are either from the forest, or beings who had stumbled upon it.”

“Interesting. _Very interesting!_ So, there are forest residents? Will we meet any? Who are they? Do fairies exist?”

“Stiles, calm down. I'll explain more later. I don't want to risk being overheard anymore than we already have.” Stiles nodded, excited about the prospect of learning more. His research had hinted towards these sorts of things, but he hadn't thought they really existed. Peter sighed, before pulling out his wallet. “Here, go buy yourself something to drink. A snack too, if you want.”

“You trust me to leave your sight?”

“No. I'm just giving you my wallet for no reason.”

“Alright, okay. Message received. Let me guess, you'll be keeping an ear on me?”

“Naturally.”

“And it'd be stupid for me to run away, or ask for help.”

“Essentially.”

“Right. Okay, anything you want?”

“Water will do.”

Stiles nodded, saluted, and marched into the gas station. He perused the aisles, while entertaining the thought of trying to run away, if not to succeed, then perhaps to simply get his heroic escape attempt on camera. All gas stations had cameras, right?

At least then his dad and the others would know where he was.

Stiles shook his head, knowing that it wouldn't end well. After selecting a few bags of potato chips, and the drink of his choice, Stiles wandered over to the cashier. He wasn't taking his time or anything, though, no sir. He would never. If it delayed Peter's plans, though? Well, that would just be an added bonus.

The cashier rung him up, and Stiles pulled out a few bills. Once that had been taken care of, he started his slow trek back to the car (which was just a few yards away, but if it took a while, well, Stiles was just tired, and all that).

On his way out the door, Stiles spotted the newspaper stand, and decided to grab one for light reading. There was nothing else to do in that car, otherwise. Peter wasn't exactly a thrilling conversationalist (well, actually he was, but Stiles didn't want to admit that). He paid the meter, and took his copy, flipping through it casually as he made his way back to the car. He laughed at some of the more ridiculous article titles, but his smile falteredwhen he reached the seventh page.

It was a small article, and he might not have even noticed it if he hadn't been so adept at researching. In the bottom left corner, Stiles saw a black and white image of his dad, looking for all the world as if his life had been drained.

Stiles hadn't thought his disappearance was newsworthy. There were hundreds of kids who disappeared every day, so why was his name appearing in a newspaper one state over? Stiles then remembered that it wasn't every day that a small town sheriff's son was the one to vanish. People were probably having a field day guessing what had happened to him.

Stiles read every detail of the article, and came to the conclusion that no, they had no idea where he was, or who he was with. A good portion of the report was just fillers and conjectures, with quotes from random citizens. One Beacon Hills resident feared that Stiles had been kidnapped by radicals, who hated the sheriff. Another (Adrian Harris, no surprise there) speculated that Stiles had run away, because “Stiles Stilinski was a very troubled boy. No doubt he ran away, seeking attention.”

There was a small comment from Scott, who claimed that he had no idea where Stiles was, but that he was looking. Stiles was sure that no one knew quite how telling that comment was. Scott probably was looking everywhere, leaving no rock unturned.

His dad's statement was the worst, though: “I don't know where he is, or why he's gone. And I don't care. I just want my son back.”

Stiles cringed at his father's words. His father was taking this harder than Stiles had imagined. He could almost smell the alcohol on his father's breath, when he glanced at the picture again.

At the very bottom of the article was a picture of Stiles, one that must have been taken when he'd helped his school to win a lacrosse game. He looked so cheerful in the picture, though Stiles remember only too clearly what had happened to him seconds after that game.

His father hadn't taken his kidnapping then very well, either. Stiles really wished he could stop doing this to his dad, but the world seemed to be conspiring against him.

When he glanced up, Peter was right there, in his face. Stiles knew it wasn't the wisest course of action, but just the sight of Peter made him so angry. Peter was the one who had done this to them. Peter was the one who had torn him away from his loved ones. At that moment, Stiles couldn't help but want to rebel.

“You're heartbeat is increasing by the second. What is it?” Stiles clenched his fists, his anger bubbling out of control. “Stiles?”

“I have to go home. My dad is a wreck. _I have to go home!_ ” He shouted the last sentence, not caring in the least if bystanders stopped to stare. Let them stare. Maybe then, someone could tell his dad where he was.

“Stiles, don't cause a scene. What happened?” Peter's eyes flashed in warning, but Stiles didn't care.

“I'm going home.” Stiles thrust the newspaper at Peter, who seemed to take note of the article. “My dad is a mess, and I can't let that continue. I'm going _home._ ”

“The only place you're going is with me.”

“Then come home with me. Just as long as I go home.”

Peter's eyes were permanently glowing by this point. “No. Get in the car, we're continuing as planned.”

“No.”

“Stiles.” Peter was growling a little, and though Stiles felt his heart jack up in fear, he stood his ground. “Get in the car. Now. Don't make me use force.”

“Go ahead, use force. The cameras will capture it all.”

“No, they won't.” Stiles stilled at that. “Magic, Stiles. Now get in the car.”

Stiles stared at Peter for a moment, before breathing in deep, preparing to yell for help, as he turned to run away. Peter was faster, though, and the next thing Stiles knew, his world had gone black once more.

 

 

Stiles groaned as his world came back into focus. His head was killing him, as if someone had taken a brick to his skull. His body was aching in much the same way. Scratch that, then. Someone had taken a ton of bricks and dumped them unsympathetically upon his person.

Stiles tried to sit up, and immediately regretted it, as his vision swam. He moaned, and collapsed onto the ground once more. The momentum rolled him slightly off of the blanket he had been resting upon, and Stiles cursed as he got a good mouthful of grass and dirt.

Hands wrapped around his waist and shoulder, and rolled him back towards his starting point. Stiles winced, and tried to pull away. His vision was still groggy, and he couldn't seem to remember how he got there, but his senses seemed to instinctively shun whoever was touching him.

“Stiles. Lay still.”

Peter Hale. Stiles memory came back in a flash, and it wasn't just his instincts trying to actively get away. There was no way Stiles was staying with that man.

Sadly, Peter just wouldn't seem to let go of him. Stiles finally gave up when his flailing seemed to get him nowhere.

“Dur-dah...dri-” Stiles paused, internally steaming at his inability to get a coherent word out. He tried again, a little sluggishly. “Drugs.” There, that's what he wanted. After that, his words came out a little more clearly. “The drugs. Potent.”

“I had to use a stronger dose, I'm afraid.” Stiles couldn't see Peter, but he imagined him shaking his head. “I am sorry about that. There was a possibility that you'd built a tolerance the first time around.”

Stiles glared, and though he couldn't see Peter's face, he could feel his hands clenching slightly. Huh. So he did effect him, then. He was guilty? Good.

The Jerk. With a capital J.

“How? Station? Get out?” Stiles was a little upset that he was reduced to one word sentences, but at least he could understand them. “Followed?”

“No, we weren't followed. I knocked you out, picked you up, and threw you into the car. If anyone had tried to call the cops, we were gone before they came.”

“Anyone help?”

“One man tried to stop me, but I simply drugged him as well. No one attempted anything after that.”

Stiles sighed, and tried to move again. His sight was getting clearer at each passing minute, and before long, it had mostly returned. Peter kept pinned to his blanket, though.

“Don't move. The drugs are still in your system; however, your recovery time is phenomenally quicker than the last.”

“How long?”

“About a day.”

Well, that was indeed significantly quicker. If it had been a day, then...

“Where are we?” Ah, Stiles had progressed to simple sentences. Wonderful.

“Our destination.”

“Enchanted forest.” He'd thought so. The trees had been an indication, but Stiles hadn't wanted to assume without confirmation. “No handcuffs?”

“No need. We're in my domain, now.” Peter smiled brightly, and allowed Stiles to finally sit up. “If you try to run away, I will simply hunt you down.”

Stiles shivered, before nodding solemnly. There was nothing he could do for his father at the minute, but he would find a way to escape one way or another. Until then, Stiles decided to play along with whatever Peter had planned.

“Perfect. Then for now, we will simply have to wait until the drugs wear off.”

“And then? We find a mage?” Stiles really didn't like the idea of Peter becoming an alpha, but he wasn't sure he could stop him.

“My dear Stiles... we already have a mage in our little pack.”

“You? I thought... the ritual or something... requires a... mage _and_ a werewolf.” Stiles hated that he had to pause for breath repeatedly in between his sentence, but at least he was able to get his point across.

“Stiles, I am not the mage.”

“Then who?” Stiles stared at Peter for a while, before his words began to make sense. “Wait, me?”

Peter nodded, as he squeezed Stiles shoulder, in what he probably thought was a comforting way. “Yes, Stiles, you. You're the mage I spoke of.”

Stiles could only gawk.


	4. Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is late, and I hope that you enjoy.  
> Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments ^.^

 “My whole...” Stiles tried to think of a word that would suit him. “Everything. My whole everything hurts. Aches. Whatever, I'm in pain.”

“Yes, that's to be expected, after I doubled your dose.”

“You drugged me _again_ is what you did.”

“Well, you refused to sleep.” Peter picked at his nails while he spoke. He didn't appear to be repentant at all, which only made Stiles angrier. “Look on the bright side. You only slept for eight hours this time. I must say, you've built up an impressive tolerance.”

“I wasn't going to run away! I just wasn't sleepy.”

“I'm your alpha, Stiles. When I say sleep, then sleep.” Peter glanced up for a moment, probably in order to appear intimidating. Stiles wasn't falling for it.

“So, if you say jump, I jump? Nuh-uh, no way. Forget it.”

“Stiles.” Peter growled softly, making Stiles jump.

“Okay, okay! You bark, I follow. Got it.” Stiles shook his head, and finished packing his bag. They had camped for the night, near an old tree. It was a beautiful thing, really, and Stiles couldn't help but admire it. 

“I'm not part of your pack, though. I'm only following orders because you terrify me. A lot.” Stiles brushed his fingers against the tree, ignoring Peter's orders to start walking. He sighed when Peter finally grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started tugging. “You do realize that kidnapping doesn't usually turn out well, right?”

“Only if I murder you. Which is tempting.”

“No its not. You wouldn't have gone through all this trouble if you thought you couldn't put up with me.” Stiles groaned when he realized what he had just said. “Oh my god, I am totally not helping my case right now. It's like I started digging my own grave.”

“It's a very nice grave.”

“Sure, because my grave would only be for the best. Let's just make sure I don't start carving my own tombstone, too.”

Peter laughed, and let Stiles go. They walked at a slow pace, but it was still too much for Stiles' to handle. Usually, he would have been fine, but the drugs had caused his entire body to ache.

“I have no idea where we're going, but this would be so much easier with the car. What the hell did you do with it, anyway?”

“I left it at a parking garage.”

“And what, carried unconscious little me the rest of the way to the forest?”

“Yes, precisely.”

“Well, that's just lovely. Why didn't anyone notice?”

“It was surprisingly easy, actually. No one seemed to care.”

“Wow. I keep forgetting that humans can be jerks.”

“I certainly will not argue that point; however, if it makes you feel any better, it was in the dead of night. The only person I passed looked like he belonged in prison years ago.”

“That's really not a comfort, no.” Stiles laughed a little, though. Peter wasn't exactly bad company, per say; he just needed to work on his psychopathic tendencies. 

“Really, though, where are we going?” Stiles really hated not being kept in the loop. Everyone seemed to be in the habit of keeping him out of things, lately. 

“There is a place to perform the ritual, though I am not entirely certain where it is.” 

“You don't know where we're going?” Stiles stopped and stared at Peter, who in turn stopped to look at him.

“I know the general area... It's hard to explain, but let's just say I don't know where I'm going, but at the same time I _know._ ”

“You have a feeling? Gut instincts?”

“Yes.”

“And you expect me to work with that?”

“Naturally.”

“Yeah, alright. Fine.” Peter tugged on his arm, and Stiles started walking once more. “And when we get there? Then what?”

“We perform the ritual.”

“Yes, genius, I got that part. What do we _do_ , though?”

“I will teach you magic on the way. Small lessons, enough to get you started. When we reach our destination, you will know enough to do as I instruct.”

“So, you're going to teach me magic?” Stiles didn't think he was a mage, but the information would be interesting enough. He couldn't wait to get his hands on it.

“As I said, I will teach you enough to work with. Do not think that I will teach you defensive magic just yet.” Peter turned slightly, and flashed his eyes. “You are not escaping, Stiles. Stop trying.”

Stiles grumbled a little, before nodding in begrudged agreement.

 

 

“I'm not a mage.” Stiles argued that evening, while he poked at his dinner. “That's too awesome to be true.”

Peter cocked his head to the side, and studied him curiously. “Yes, being a mage is marvelous, but it has its drawbacks.”

“Like what?” Stiles felt as if a lecture was coming, and he didn't mind. He'd been looking forward to his first lesson.

“It can cause madness.”

“Oh.” Stiles took a large bite of his stew. “If that's the case, then I could be a mage.”

“Really? That's all it took to convince you?”

“Well, really I was hoping you'd say 'yer a wizard, Stiles,' but I'll take what I can get.”

“Please don't tell me the mass majority of your magical knowledge comes from Harry Potter.”

“Nah, most of it comes from video games. And comics. Lots and lots of comics.”

“Because that's much better.” Peter shook his head, before continuing. “Well, they haven't gotten everything wrong. Some shows are even a little spot on. It's somewhat eerie – I suspect the writers are in fact mages themselves.”

“Hey, if I were a mage in modern times, I'd try to get the right information out, too.”

“Stiles, you are a mage in modern times.”

“Yeah, well, this is still a new thing for me. Give me time to process. So, madness?”

“Apparently, giving you time to process includes an entire lesson on the drawbacks of magic. I'm not all that surprised.”

“You really shouldn't be, at this point.” Peter merely laughed, and nodded. “Not that I'm saying you should have kidnapped me, but after all this time, you should have me figured out by now.”

“And you me?”

“Point.” Stiles sighed, before taking another bite. The stew was actually very good, but Stiles wasn't going to point that out. “Where on earth did you hide the stew pot, anyway?”

“My pack is larger on the inside.” Peter explained, pointing towards his bag. He made it sound so simple, so ordinary, that Stiles almost couldn't say anything in response.

Almost. 

“Well, Mary Poppins, explain the madness.”

“Magic mostly comes from within.” Stiles noted that Peter was ignoring his new nickname. “Some people have more than others. Sometimes, though, a spell requires more magic than one can provide themselves, even the most powerful.”

“So, what? They borrow it? And that drives them mad? What, do they sell their souls for a little bit of fairy dust?”

“No, Stiles, they do not. One can borrow magic from the earth, from the trees. They ask nicely, and the earth gladly helps out.”

“Then where does the madness come in?”

“Sometimes, siphoning magic off of the elements can take a long time. There have been some who are in such dire situations that they need... well, let's say they find an immediate fix elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“The spirit world.”

“And that causes madness? Borrowing from the spirits?”

“No, Stiles, because very few spirits willingly give up their energy. One has to steal it, which can be overwhelming. The spirits resist, and sometimes during the fight a part of you doesn't make it out intact.”

“So, no stealing from the spirit world. Okay. Any other drawbacks?”

“Every spell has a cost.”

“Equal balances in the world, and all that, I suspect?” Stiles finished his soup, and passed his bowl to Peter. They'd wash their dishes later in a creek they had camped near. 

“Yes, equal balances. Usually, the cost is energy and magic. This can almost always be met in some way.”

“If you don't have the money, take out a loan?”

“I suppose, though the earth often trades the energy for a few words of thanks. You don't have to pay it back.”

“I'm guessing there are other ways to pay, though. For a spell, I mean.”

“Yes. I'm sure you've heard of blood mages?”

“Dragon Age didn't portray them in a great light.”

“A game?” Stiles nodded. Peter sighed, but didn't broach the subject further. “Yes, well, on average they are the ones to go mad more often than not. Blood is bursting with energy, so they often do not need to borrow from the earth. Sometimes, they forget how.”  
“So they steal, and then we're in trouble?”

“Precisely.”

“So, again, no stealing. What if you're not a blood mage? Can you still use blood?”

“The practice itself isn't – well, I won't say it's harmless, but you should be fine as long as you remember to borrow, and always gain permission.”

Stiles nodded, wishing he had a piece of paper so that he could take notes. “So, you're a mage, too? Where did you learn all of this?”

“It is a rare gift, and is even rarer among werewolves; however, I did have a teacher. My parents sought one out, for fear that I might summon a tornado during one of my tantrums.”

“Did you?” 

“No. As it turns out, I have very little talent for elemental manipulation. I barely survived the fire, after all.”

Stiles decided it was probably time to change the subject. Bringing up the Hale fire couldn't end well. “This has been very instructive, but if you tell me any more, I don't think I'll be able to remember it all. Raise your hand if you're all for stopping here?” Stiles raised his hand, and smiled when Peter did the same. There wasn't even an eyeroll.

“It is late. I suggest you sleep.”

“Just so long as you don't drug me again.” Stiles flopped down onto his sleeping bag, and glanced up once he was comfortable. “What about you?”

“I'll keep watch.”

“Uh, keep watch for what?”

“If I answer that question, will you still be able to sleep?”

“Well, look at the time. I should probably just stop talking now, and get to sleeping.”

“A wise choice. Don't fret, you have a werewolf for protection.”

“What does it say about my life that I find that comforting?” Stiles laughed, before settling in for the night. 

He had a feeling the next day was going to be a doozy. 

 

 

When Stiles awoke, the first thing he noticed was that his everything didn't hurt any longer. If anything, he hardly ached at all. 

The second thing he noticed was that he and Peter weren't alone.

Peter was growling, fiercely this time, at the men and women surrounding them. Some of them had arrows notched and ready to fire, though none were aimed at Stiles. 

A man stepped forward, towards Stiles, and Peter didn't take kindly to it. In the blink of an eye, Peter had moved himself between the man and Stiles, and growled a little louder.

“I am Erowin, chief of my clan.” The man ignored Peter, and spoke to Stiles as if he weren't there. 

“There's no reason for an elven clan to interfere with our travels.” Peter bit out, clearly peeved that he was being ignored. 

Stiles was a little lost, considering he had only just woken up, but he caught on quickly enough. An elven clan? He glanced at Erowin, and noted that the man did indeed possess rather pointy ears. Other than that, though, Stiles would never have guessed. The man wasn't particularly attractive, at least not to Stiles. 

“Yes, we usually do not interact with those who pass through the forest; however, we received startling news this morn.”

“What was it?” Stiles was standing up now, despite Peter's insistence that he sit back down. “From who?”

“We met with a pair of young Brownies, who insist that a wolf had taken a mage.” Erowin finally glanced at Peter, his expression hardened. “Their word appears credible.”

“And it is a crime for a mage to join a wolf's pack?” Peter had stiffened at the accusation. “It is not, you realize.”

“It is a crime to kidnap a mage, particularly a young one.”

“Stiles willingly travels by my side-”

“I don't!” Stiles interrupted Peter, who turned to glare at him. “I was kidnapped-”

Peter quickly covered Stiles mouth, before he could say anymore. The damage had been done, though, and his actions only solidified them. The instant Peter had stopped Stiles, an arrow flew past him in warning.

“Let the boy go, and we will spare your life.”

“And what, pray tell, will _you_ do with him?” Peter moved closer to Stiles, perhaps just to spite the newcomers. 

“We will take him home, if he likes. Or he may travel with us. It would not be the first time a mage joined our clan, though it has been some time since the last.” 

“I want to go home.” Peter growled as Stiles wiggled out of his grip. An elf stepped forward, and pulled Stiles to safety, leaving Peter alone and surrounded. He felt horrible about it. “Don't kill him, though. I'm not part of _his_ pack, but I am part of his _old_ pack. The one he defected from.”

“He is an omega?” Erowin motioned for his men to stand at the ready. “You say not to kill, but that depends upon his actions this day.”

“Peter, don't fight them. Come home with me? Derek needs us.”

Peter glanced at the elves, each prepared to fire, and sighed. “I had not expected for our travels to include a clan of elves. I would not survive an eleven battle at my current strength.”

“You may travel with us, wolf, if you surrender.”

“I will watch from afar.” Peter gathered up his belongings, ignoring the elves, and moved to squeeze Stiles' shoulder. “If you change your mind, I will be close.” Peter glanced at Erowin, before setting off, shaking his head in wonder. Stiles could just make out his mumbling as he disappeared. “Elves. _Really?_ ”

The minute Peter was gone, the elves relaxed, lowering their weapons. “Where do you hail from, young mage?” Erowin asked, as Stiles picked up his own belongings. 

“Beacon Hills. Do you know of it?”

“I do not, though I am sure our guide could point us in the right direction.”

“I hope so.” Stiles finished packing, and nodded when Erowin motioned for him to start walking. “You speak English. How are you speaking English?”

“Our clan does not always travel in the forest. Until just recently, we had spent a few years in Boston. We try to... keep up with society.”

“And no one notices your... ears?”

Erowin laughed. “We use a spell to hide them. Or we simply cover them up. You are new to our secrets, then?”

“Oh, I know almost nothing. My alpha is about as forthcoming with information as a rock.”

“A stone, when observed carefully, can tell one a great deal.”

“Oh, I learn from him, but I still need _words_ every now and then.”

“I think I have someone in mind to teach you, young mage. If you desire instruction?” Erowin paused for a second, and smiled when Stiles nodded vigorously. 

“Then, young mage, welcome to our clan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Peter just wasn't expecting elves, of all things.  
> Now that the elves have been introduced, I can get started with the plot... and also introduce Stiles' other love interest.


	5. Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, fifth chapter is up. This chapter introduces some new characters, and hints at the future introduction of others.  
> Thank you all for the comments <3

Stiles followed Erowin through the maze of trees, hoping the elven chief knew where he was going. Most of his sources told him that elves were one with nature, but Stiles' sources had been wrong before. 

Erowin didn't seem concerned, though, so he must have known where they were. 

That, or he would be really good at poker. 

“We are near camp.” Erowin paused, and pulled Stiles to the side. A few other elves stopped to stand guard. “Our rescue was successful, though we were not certain it would be.”

“Taking on a werewolf isn't easy, I know.” Stiles nodded in understanding.

“We feared he might be an alpha. It is not uncommon for an alpha wolf to take a mage for his pack, especially if his pack is small. I am glad that it was only an omega.”

“No fighting necessary. Mission successful.” 

“Yes. Our people will wish to celebrate our return. You will join the festivities?”

“You think I'm going to miss out on an elven party? I'd love to join, as long as you don't sacrifice me to the earth, or something.”

“Young mage, why would we perform a sacrifice?”

“I'm still new to the supernatural, and all of my knowledge needs to be scrapped and rewritten. Just promise me you won't sacrifice me.”

“I promise.” Erowin looked amused, and Stiles sighed in relief. 

“I'm sorry, if I seem rude. I just don't know anything, so I want to cover all my bases.”

“I suppose there is wisdom to your words.” Erowin smiled, and clasped Stiles on the shoulder. “Now, young mage, what is your name?”

“Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski.” Yeah, he was doing the Bond introduction, but Stiles didn't care. He'd always wanted to try it, and it sounded awesome.

“Stiles is not your original name, is it?”

“No, but it's the name I chose for myself.”

“If you chose it, then it has power. Sir Stiles-”

“Wait wait wait wait wait.” Stiles knew he'd probably overused that word, but it got the point across. “ _Sir_ Stiles. Something seems off about that. It sounds too formal.”

“You are a mage, and a powerful one at that. Formalities are necessary, and I must show my respect.”

“Okay, how old are you?” 

“Two-hundred and thirty-one years, this fall.”

“Yeah, see, I'm seventeen. I respect you, but I don't see how it works the other way around.”

“We respect one another, as we are both men of importance.”

“And what am I supposed to call you?”

“Erowin is fine, Sir Stiles.”

“Okay, this is how it's going to go. Your people can call me what they like, and I'll go along with it; however, if I'm going to casually use your name, then you have to do the same. Call me Stiles.”

“I believe we have a deal.” Erowin bowed slightly, before straightening, and Stiles found himself copying the move. “Then, young Stiles,” Stiles sighed, and decided that 'young Stiles' was good enough. “I ask of you this: Once you have learned the magical arts, would you bestow upon my daughter a gift of protection?”

“A gift of protection? I don't mind, but can I ask why?”

Erowin glanced at his men, before motioning for them to go on ahead. This was a private conversation, then. The other elves did not appear to like the order, but they followed without complaint. 

Once they were alone, Erowin lowered his voice and continued. “You see, my daughter is weak. The clan does not know of this, but she is ill quite frequently. We travel the globe, more often than not, to locations that may have a cure.”

Erowin paused, and glanced around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping. “I rescued you partly out of duty, but I admit, I also had selfish reasons. You are a young mage, untrained, and so I would not ask that you heal her... but if you could create a protective spell, anything that could ease her pain, then I would be grateful.”

“I.” Stiles still wasn't certain he was a mage, even though everyone seemed to insist upon the fact. These people had rescued him, though, and were willing to take him home. They were even offering to train him along the way. “I'm not certain I'll be able to do it, but I'll try. I... how old is your daughter?”

“She is only seven years of age. I married not long ago.”

Seven? Stiles tried to imagine a sickly seven-year-old, and didn't like what his mind created. Stiles was reminded of his mother, and how he and his father still grieved to this day. He didn't want anyone else to experience that.

“I can't promise you I will succeed... or rather, I won't promise you that, but I will do my best. You have my word.” Stiles would try. He wasn't sure what he could do, but if he could help, even just a little, then he was willing to try. 

“I thank you.” Erowin seemed to sag against the tree behind him, probably in relief. “Now that my request has been heard, I ask that we continue towards the camp. There are many introductions to be made.”

 

 

The camp was larger than Stiles had been imagining. It looked less like a camp, and more like a village. There were hundreds of elves bustling about, performing the necessary duties that life required.

People stopped what they were doing as Stiles and Erowin passed by, pointing and whispering. No doubt the rumors were flying. Stiles was comforted to know that even elves knew how to gossip. 

“Come, I must introduce you to our council.” Erowin motioned for Stiles to follow him into a rather large tent. Once inside, Stiles found himself placed upon a cushion, a drink in hand, as a half dozen wizened old men joined him. 

“Councilmen,” Erowin began, “I introduce to you the young mage that my men and I rescued this morn, from a wolf.”

The councilmen began to whisper in hushed tones, and Stiles began to feel like he was on trial. “Was the wolf taken care of? Were there any casualties?” The man in the center of the group spoke, and Stiles could see that his age had been good to him. He was aged and wrinkled, but his eyes were alight with youth and energy. 

“The wolf was not killed, but he did not fight us. He surrendered the boy without much fuss.”

“And why did you let him live? Kidnapping a mage is a grave offense.”

“It was requested by the young mage, Sir Stiles, that he live. Sir Stiles is a member of a wolf pack in Beacon Hills. The wolf had defected from the pack, and forced Sir Stiles to accompany him.”

“So it was out of respect. Yes, the wolf's fate should be left to his scorned pack.”

“I have offered shelter to the wolf, out of respect to our guest, but the wolf declined.”

The councilmen began to whisper some more, before nodding. “Hospitality was a wise choice. If the wolf attacks, then we will have grounds to kill, despite his pack's claim on his life.” The councilmen nodded amongst themselves, before gesturing to Stiles. “This is the young mage?”

Stiles would have waved, but he wasn't certain of the protocol in such a situation. He'd learned from school that a peace sign could be seen as flipping someone off in other countries, and so he didn't want to accidentally offend.

“Yes, this is Sir Stiles. He chose the name Stiles himself, and so it has power.” The councilmen all seemed to agree, though Stiles wasn't sure what to think. He'd always thought that a nickname was just a nickname, and nothing more. “Sir Stiles is new to the arts, and is in need of a teacher. I suggest that Mayrin be his guide.”

The old men seemed to have a fit at this suggestion, and began to whisper not so quietly. Stiles tried to decipher the flurry of words, and realized that they were speaking in another tongue. 

Finally, the man in the center spoke again. “If Mayrin will take him as a student, then we will accept your suggestion. Mayrin's decision will be the deciding factor.” Stiles wondered why the men spoke in English, when they could clearly speak in any other language, before it hit him. They were speaking in English out of respect for him. They clearly _wanted_ Stiles to understand their conversation. 

The tent didn't seem as constrictive after that revelation.

“Then, my final request is that we travel to Beacon Hills, in order to return Sir Stiles to his pack.”

“We have already thought that question through.” The elder in the center responded, while those on either side of him nodded. “It goes without saying that the young mage's pack will be searching for him. We will leave in five days time.”

“Five days is just enough time to gather supplies for the journey.” Erowin was speaking to Stiles now. “While we prepare, you will study with Mayrin... if he accepts you.”

“How long will it take to return home? How are we getting there?” Stiles was bursting with questions, but he knew which ones were the most important. He needed to return home soon, for his father's sake, as well as the pack's.

“It will take a little under two months... well, perhaps more. I do not know where Beacon Hills _is_.” 

“Two months?! It's been a little under a week since Peter took me.”

“We will be traveling inside the forest. We cannot risk moving the entire clan outside, without proper preparation. We cannot allow you to go alone, either. The wolf may snatch you up once more, or another far stronger may attempt to do the same. You are safe in our custody.”

Stiles sighed, and slumped forward. “You're right. I should be happy that I'm going home at all. Yesterday, I hadn't known how I was ever going to accomplish that.”

“The journey will allow you to train, young Stiles. Do not fret, for the journey will be over quickly once you start to study. You may even find that it was too quick.”

Stiles smiled as Erowin attempted to reassure him. “I hope so, Erowin. I really hope so.”

 

 

When they exited the tent, Erowin gestured towards another. “Before I introduce you to your teacher, it might be best to introduce you to your saviors.”

Stiles was slightly confused, before he remembered Erowin mentioning a pair of Brownies. Because fairies existed. Why not? Everything else was real, so why not an entire subcategory of the Fae? Stiles wasn't even all that surprised. 

Erowin led Stiles into the tent, which was far more open than the last, and stopped near a small table. Stiles heard two little giggles of pleasure, and noticed that there were treats set upon the table. Stiles snuck up close to the table, and saw two tiny, somewhat adorable little children. Their noses were huge, but other than that, they looked exactly like two ten-year-olds. Only tiny. The smallest of the two was about the size of Stiles' fist, while the other was just a few inches taller. 

“The Fae adore cream, but I'm afraid we didn't have much to spare. We only have one cow, and she produces only so much.” Erowin sighed, and pointed to the candies that the two Brownies were devouring. “They had done a good deed, however, and so we rewarded them with sweets.”

The two Brownies looked up, large smiles on their faces. Their smiles grew when they saw Stiles. “Mage! Mage!” The smallest flew up into the air, little wings unfolding from his back, and did a small dance in excitement. “Look look, Carrot! The mage is safe.”

“Carrot?” Stiles glanced at Erowin, who merely smiled and shrugged. 

“For some reason, the Brownies find it amusing to name their kin after food. I think this tradition started after they discovered the brownie.”

“As in, the cake? Pastry. Whatever, the brownie.”

“Yes.” Erowin smiled at the two little fae. “May I introduce Carrot and Cucumber. Carrot, Cucumber, this is Sir Stiles, the mage.”

“Stiles!” Carrot clapped once, nodding, before digging into his treats once more. Once he had devoured it, he looked up at Cucumber, who was doing small flips and loops in the air. 

Stiles made a mental note to never give that much sugar to a fairy.

Cucumber seemed to understand, and stopped flailing about. Stiles would have found it adorable, if he hadn't been so terrified that Cucumber would hurt himself. Stiles was an expert on the art of flailing and falling.

“We were in tree, big tree. It was a nice tree, so we took a nap.”

Stiles suddenly knew exactly which tree they were talking about. “When I touched the tree, did I wake you up?”

“Yes!” Cucumber beamed up at Stiles. “We heard word. Kidnapped. We know that word is bad, and mage was with wolf.”

“We thought mage might be in danger.” Carrot added, his mouth full of cookies. “So we followed mage and wolf.”

“Wolf was not very nice to mage, not nice at all. So we found help.”

“Well, thanks you guys.” Stiles couldn't believe that he had been saved because of his fascination with that tree. It seemed almost fitting, though, that the enchanted forest help him out a little. 

“We get treats and mage safe!” Cucumber started his loops once more, and Stiles couldn't help but laugh. 

“Just don't hurt yourselves, little guys.”

“No hurt. Mage is nice.” Cucumber nodded, and settled back onto the table. 

“Sir Stiles and I are leaving now, Carrot and Cucumber.” Erowin pointed towards the exit. “I must show Sir Stiles his new teacher. Can I trust you two to stay out of trouble?”

“Yes!” 

Stiles laughed again. He suspected that the two would get into something the instant they ran out of candy. He almost couldn't wait to see what two Brownies jacked up on sugar could accomplish. 

With this thought in mind, Stiles followed the elven chief out of the tent, and towards his future instructor.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never give a Brownie too much sugar. Stiles is figuring that out.  
> Their sentences are choppy because they don't know English as well as Erowin. They'll improve over time.  
> Can anyone guess what Mayrin is? :)  
> 


	6. Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this is late. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner :)  
> Also, in case anyone wants to know, Mayrin is pronounced Mare-rin. There's a bit of emphasis on the "r."  
> Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments!

Erowin led Stiles through the campsite, towards the center. The elves they passed along the way bowed respectfully, offering the occasional “Good morning, Sir Mage.”

Talk about pressure. Stiles tried his best not to trip after that, only to succeed in a full face plant. 

“Sir Mage!” 

“Are you hurt?”

“My ego is.” Stiles laughed while unsuccessfully spitting out the dirt and grass he had swallowed. It said something about Stiles that he was becoming accustomed to the distinct flavor of top soil.

A hand stretched out before him, and Stiles took it gratefully. “I'm clumsy. It's a thing. No worries.” Stiles stumbled again, and tumbled onto the poor soul who had helped him up. “Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I did say I was clumsy. It's really a thing, I can't help it. Don't ever give me something breakable unless you intend for it to shatter into a million pieces. Seriously, I-”

Stiles paused when he finally got a look at the man he had toppled onto.

“Oh my god, I can see through you. Why can I see through-” Stiles fell through the stranger, as if he had never been solid to begin with. “What the hell?!” The stranger laughed, or at least Stiles assumed that he was laughing, since he couldn't actually hear him. His shoulders shook, and he was smiling, but he was completely silent.

Stiles didn't trust his ability to stand after that, and simply stared at the translucent man before him. 

“Young Stiles, may I introduce you to my clan's guardian, Mayrin.”

Stiles continued to stare, before realizing that such an act was usually considered rude. “Mayrin?” Stiles tested the name on his tongue. “My new teacher is a ghost?”

Erowin chuckled, before pulling Stiles to his feet. “Mayrin is no ghost, young Stiles.” Erowin pushed Stiles a couple yards further, and pointed towards the center of the campsite. “Honorable Mayrin is a tree spirit.”

“A tree spirit.” Stiles gawked at the large, old Ash tree before him. It was a beautiful specimen, with gnarled roots and a knotted trunk. Upon closer inspection, Stiles realized that the earth from which it sprang was encased and raised up on wheels. _For easy transportation_ , Stiles mused.

Stiles shook his head, and laughed lightly. “A tree spirit. Sure, why not? I, the apparent mage, was rescued from a werewolf by a clan of elves and two fairies. A tree spirit, huh? I'll buy it.”

“Honorable Mayrin,” Erowin moved to stand beside Stiles, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “I have brought before you the young mage from this morn. As you can see, he has been liberated from his captor, an omega wolf, and is now in want of a mentor.” 

Stiles' head reeled from the introduction, and decided that remaining silent was probably for the best. 

Mayrin nodded, and gestured for Stiles and Erowin to follow him. He flew over to his tree (because that was _his_ tree, right?), and sat down on a root. Erowin paused beside the mound before him, but did not climb it. 

“Honorable Mayrin, am I correct in assuming that you will take the young mage, Sir Stiles, as a student?”

Mayrin nodded, before pointing carefully at Stiles, and then the root. Stiles got the message, and clambered onto the raised mound. Once he was carefully seated on the root, Mayrin waved his hand in dismissal at Erowin. 

“Honorable Mayrin, thank you for taking the time to look after the young mage. Sir Stiles, I wish you luck. I will leave you here.”

Stiles stood up quickly at that. “Wait! You're leaving me here? What am I supposed to do?”

“Do as Mayrin instructs.” Erowin smiled, before swiftly gliding away.

Stiles glanced back and forth between Erowin and Mayrin, before sighing and sitting back down on the rather large root. “Okay, so uh... I'm Stiles. It's a nickname, and apparently it has power. I have no idea. Should I call you Honorable Mayrin?”

Mayrin shook his head. “Okay, so then I'm guessing Mayrin is fine?” Mayrin nodded, and smiled brightly. The light from the trees shone through him, and added to the effect. “Alright. So, if I just talk like normal, is that okay? Is this a formal thing? I have no idea what I'm doing." Mayrin laughed silently again, so Stiles took that as a sign to just talk like normal. That was a relief. "Great. So, since we're on the topic of talking... you can't talk?” A shake. “You _can_ talk?” A nod. “But you aren't going to?” Another nod. “Okay, so I'm going to ask a lot of questions then. Does this have something to do with your energy? Your internal magic?” Mayrin nodded vigorously, so Stiles knew he was on the right track. “So then, you _can_ talk, but it takes up a lot of energy?”

Mayrin smiled, and held out his hand. Stiles stared at it for a moment, wondering if he would go through it again. Mayrin had held him before, and that was enough to convince Stiles to reach out and grasp his hand. “Solid.” Stiles let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, before his hand fell through air once more. “Okay, so I'm assuming that was a little lesson. You can alter your state, but it takes magic?”

A nod, and Stiles smiled to himself. “Well, you not talking might cause a few bumps in the road, but we can work with this.” After all, how often does one receive the opportunity to learn magic from an elven tree spirit?

“I am curious, though. Peter- oh, Peter was the werewolf that kidnapped me. Anyway, Peter taught me a little the other day. It was just a little lecture, really, but he told me that I can borrow energy from the earth.” Mayrin nodded, and motioned for Stiles to continue. “So, that's right? I can borrow from the earth? And not just the ground itself, but from the tree and plants?” Stiles pondered this, after Mayrin nodded the affirmative. “So, if you're a tree spirit, then can you borrow energy too? You don't talk because it takes up a lot of magic, but can't you borrow some?”

Mayrin smiled, and opened his arms, gesturing to the world around them. Somehow, Stiles knew what he was implying. “We're all part of the same cycle? I'm getting a Lion King vibe here, circle of life and all that jazz.”

Mayrin gave him a puzzled look, and Stiles laughed. “Sorry, that was a Disney reference. You probably have no idea what that is. Maybe I'll explain it later.” Mayrin nodded, and gestured to the trees again. “Right, right. Back on track, got it. So then, you're saying what? That you're part of the world – we all are – and that you don't have to borrow?”

Mayrin shook his head. “Okay, so you do have to borrow, because the energy is in a cycle. It belongs to everybody, but it's... well, it's what?Balanced?” Mayrin clapped, though there was no sound. “Oh, so I got that right. Awesome. We're all part of this world, and the energy is balanced. You have to ask for permission to borrow the energy you need to talk consistently, and so you don't. Am I getting this right?” A nod. “Hm. You could do it without borrowing, though, right? It would just tire you out?” Mayrin nodded, and Stiles sighed. He felt exhausted himself. They hadn't done anything physical, there had been no practical magic lesson, but Stiles was completely wiped out.

“So I'm guessing you should only borrow when you need to. You don't _need_ to talk, so it's unnecessary.” Stiles stretched, and leaned against the tree. “I have no idea why I'm able to focus recently. I haven't had my Adderall in forever.” Mayrin gave him a quizzical look. “Oh, I have a little trouble sitting still and focusing, so I take medication to help me out. Or, well, that's how I was as a kid. They said I might grow out of it, but I'd never stopped my medication before... Man, I'm tired. Maybe that's the result of stopping my medicine cold turkey.” Stiles laughed lightly. “Anyway, I am just a little surprised that I can focus right now.”

Mayrin appeared to think for a moment, before pointing at Stiles heart. “Uh, my heart?” A shake. “Me?” Mayrin shrugged. “I'm taking that as a partial yes. Okay, so inside of me? My magic?” Mayrin poked Stiles slightly, and nodded. “My magic, huh? What, you think I needed the medication because of my magic? I had trouble focusing because I _literally_ had too much energy? That's a yes. Huh, I never thought of it like that. Still, why am I able to focus at this moment? I'm not using any magic, and I haven't in a while.”

Mayrin pointed to himself, and Stiles found that he understood once more. “Because I'm around you, you're keeping me in balance?” Stiles abruptly sat upright. “Are you borrowing my energy? Is that possible?” A shrug. “It's possible, but with my permission?” A nod. “So you're just keeping me balanced, you haven't actually taken my energy.” 

Stiles thought about his time with Peter, and noted that he hadn't really been completely focused at the time. There were times that he was, but more often than not he had been completely out of it. To be fair, though, Stiles had been drugged up for most of the trip. Perhaps Peter could have kept him balanced when he needed to. 

“I guess you're my new Adderall for now.” Stiles mused over that thought, before his fatigue finally caught up with him.

 

 

Stiles awoke to a light shake of the shoulders. 

“Mmmmeh?” Stiles tried to ignore the shaking, but finally gave in and opened his eyes. 

Of course he closed them almost immediately, because as beautiful as Mayrin was, the slight shine he seemed to have going on was slightly blinding after waking up.

“Mayrin?” Stiles cracked his eyes open a little more, and found that he had fallen asleep, slumped against Mayrin's tree. Mayrin must have moved him, though, because he was no longer sitting on the root. Stiles felt a slight itch on his hand, and realized that grass had sprung from beneath him, probably as a cushion. It was comfortable, but still somewhat itchy wherever it touched bare skin. 

“Mayrin, you're glowing, just a little. Like, very lightly. No sparkles or anything, but I have to confirm, you're not a vampire, right?”

Mayrin looked very confused by the question, and Stiles burst into a fit of giggles. “No, don't worry about it. You _are_ glowing, though.” Mayrin nodded, before pointing to the sky. “Oh, it's night already? How long was I out?” Mayrin shrugged, and Stiles nodded. Stupid question, yeah, he knew that. Obviously he'd been out for a while. “So, you're glowing for my benefit? Because it's nighttime, and that way I can see you?”

Mayrin smiled, and turned off the lights. It was like he had an off switch somewhere. “Whoah! Okay, now it is really, really dark. Oh my god, it is dark. I mean, yeah, of course, it's night. It's supposed to be dark, and all that, but where's the campfire? Shouldn't there be a fire? Are the elves still awake?”

Stiles couldn't quite make out Mayrin's face, but he saw the nod. Mayrin pointed to the east, and when Stiles glanced that way he could just make out a distant glow. Once he was more awake, Stiles could also hear music and chatter from that direction.

“So, I can go join them at any time, right?” Mayrin nodded, but he seemed slightly somber about it. “What, can't you come with?” Mayrin shook his head, and pointed at the tree. “Oh, you can't leave the tree. So, I guess you can only go so far from it. The party is too far away.” Stiles winced when Mayrin nodded. “Well, I can stay here for a little bit. Keep you company. I'll need food soon, but I'm sure someone'll come get me at some point for that.” Stiles' stomach growled at the mention of food, since he hadn't eaten since the night before, but he ignored it. He'd be eating soon enough. 

Mayrin smiled at his offer to stay, and pointed at the night sky once more. It was becoming easier for Stiles to see, as his vision focused in the dark. The moon was just past full, and Stiles realized that he had spent the full moon with Peter without noticing. That was a sobering thought. 

The glow from the moon washed over the campsite, and coaxed Stiles into a relaxed mood. Stiles hadn't felt so peaceful in a long time. He decided, just for the night, to forget about those who were waiting for him back home. He was going to return home soon enough, and so for the moment, he simply needed to stop and relax. 

If he didn't, he might just have gone insane from worry.

Mayrin settled against him, leaning against the tree, and though Stiles couldn't _feel_ him, he could feel his energy. Huh. When had Stiles learned to feel energy? That was a question for the next day. That night was Relax Night. Stiles had named it, because it was a necessary thing.

Stiles wriggled a little in place, before finding a comfortable position. “So, I can't really get answers from you, but I can talk. Meaningless chatter, really, but I can if you want. Or we can sit here, and enjoy the scenery.”

Stiles imagined that Mayrin was smiling, as he gestured to the night sky. “I'm taking that as a cue to talk about the scenery. Awesome option. Best of both worlds.” Stiles grinned as he sat back and took in the forest sounds, sights, and smells. It was beautiful, though perhaps more so because he was sharing it with someone. 

That was a nice thought.

Stiles breathed out a happy little sigh, before launching into sheer babble mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love tree spirits <3


	7. Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this is so late. As recompense, this chapter is just a little bit longer.   
> Enjoy :)

Erowin had finally collected Stiles near the end of the night, insisting that he join in the festivities. It had turned out to be a good plan, because it allowed Stiles to meet most of the clan, while also observing their customs. 

He felt guilty for leaving Mayrin alone, though. 

Mayrin had nudged him in the direction of the party, urging Stiles to go and enjoy himself, but Stiles couldn't shake the nagging guilt from leaving Mayrin by himself. 

He couldn't spend every waking moment with the spirit, though. There was much that needed to be done before they departed for Beacon Hills, and Stiles was sure that Mayrin needed to prepare as well.

Stiles smiled at the elves dancing around him, watching them gracefully move around the campfire. An elven girl stopped before him, a blush dotting her cheeks. 

Stiles heard giggling, and saw her friends motioning for her to speak. 

“Umm...” The girl mumbled something light, too soft for Stiles to hear. 

“I'm sorry? I didn't catch that.” 

“Would you... like to dance with me, Sir Mage?”

Stiles stared at the girl, his mouth hanging open in shock. Was someone actually showing interest in him? Slash that. Was a beautiful, _elven_ girl showing interest in him?

Stiles continued to stare, before remembering that the poor dear was waiting for him to respond. “I, uh. I don't mind, but I don't know how to dance. At all. I'll probably trip, and we'll end up on the ground, and really, you don't want that.”

Actually, Stiles could dance. After his friends from the gay club had witnessed his spazz-attack dance style, they had taken it upon themselves to teach him. The only problem was, their lessons had included dance styles only appropriate for a strip club, if that. 

They had told him that it would impress a future bed mate, so at least there was that.

“Kishna, I believe Sir Stiles is worn from the day. Perhaps another night?” Erowin appeared to rescue Stiles from the possible embarrassment. Kishna bowed, her eyes slightly glassy. 

“Kishna, thank you for inviting me!” Stiles called after her. She jumped at the acknowledgment, before bowing again, a smile upon her lips. Stiles had never been the cause of heartbreak, and he really didn't want to start. 

“Thanks.” Stiles sighed, leaning back against a fallen tree trunk. “My attempts to dance are rather embarrassing. You've just rescued everyone from a terrifying sight.”

Erowin cocked his head, and studied Stiles for a moment. “You could ask Mayrin to teach you, young Stiles. There are whispers that he is actually quite talented, as most nature spirits are.”

Stiles blushed at the thought of dancing with his teacher. In order to do so, Mayrin would have to gather quite a bit of energy. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to touch Stiles, let alone teach him to dance. 

Somehow, it seemed so intimate.

“I'm not so sure about that, but I'll, uh, keep it in mind.”

Erowin had nodded, and left to speak with an elderly woman. After that, the rest of the night passed without much incident or interest, until finally the celebration seemed to die down completely. 

Stiles was given his own tent to sleep in, a rather impressive structure that was apparently reserved for special guests. Stiles still found it hard to believe that he was considered “special” among a clan of freaking _elves,_ but he did appreciate it. 

The word “appreciation” didn't even begin to describe how Stiles felt about his new friends. If it weren't for them, then Stiles would still be stuck with Peter. 

Helping Erowin's daughter was the least he could do. 

Stiles slept well that night, despite his worries.

 

 

Stiles woke with a start, when something landed on his chest with a loud thump. 

“Hng!” Stiles was proud of the unintelligible words and sounds that he frequently let loose. “What?” 

“Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

Stiles struggled for a minute, trying to remember who that voice belonged to. He could have just opened his eyes, but he was too exhausted to even try. 

Oh, right. Cucumber. Stiles realized who it was by the nonstop jumping on his chest. Only something small could jump on him ceaselessly, without causing damage. 

A light touch brushed against his shoulder, then his cheek. Stiles decided it was finally time to open his eyes, just so he could see who it was. 

Mayrin swam before him, as his vision cleared. Stiles vaguely recalled that his tent was closer to the Home Tree (a name he had discovered the night before). Apparently, it was close enough that Mayrin could enter. 

He must have been really out of it, if he hadn't noticed that little detail.

“Good morning.” Stiles yawned loudly, his bones popping as he stretched. 

Mayrin smiled brightly, and brushed his fingers along Stiles' shoulder once more. It was an adorable greeting, and felt much more intimate once Stiles remembered that Mayrin couldn't touch a person easily. 

“This is my wake up call, then?” Stiles laughed at the sight of Cucumber bouncing on his chest, while Carrot sat beside his pillow, munching on a sweet treat. 

Mayrin nodded, and motioned towards the tent flap. 

“Okay. I'll get dressed, then?” Mayrin nodded again, though he did not seem to be in a hurry to leave. Stiles had become accustomed to locker room etiquette, and all that, but he still felt uncomfortable changing in front of the spirit. He wasn't even sure why. “I, uh, I'll meet you outside?”

Mayrin cocked his head in confusion, before nodding. He probably didn't understand why Stiles was uncomfortable, but at least he was considerate.

Stiles changed quickly, and then dashed outside. Mayrin was waiting for him beside his tree, (the Home Tree, Stiles reminded himself) and was motioning for Stiles to join him. Stiles ran as fast as he could, without hurting himself (or anyone else), and skidded to a stop beside his teacher. 

“I'm here. I'm awake. All is well.” His stomach growled loudly. “Well, okay, not _all_ , since I'm apparently starving...” Mayrin laughed, his shoulders shaking, before nodding to the root they had sat on the day before. Stiles wandered over to their usual perch, and found breakfast spread out before him. 

Stiles grinned, before grabbing an apple to munch on. “It's funny, you know. Yesterday I wasn't really all that hungry. I had to eat, of course, but it wasn't that big a deal. I'm starving now, though.” Stiles glanced at Mayrin. “Do you need to eat?” Mayrin shook his head, and pointed towards the tree. “You get your energy from the Home Tree? Yeah? So I guess your food is water and sunlight, and a little bit of nutrient in the soil.” That sounded nice, though. Gathering energy from the sun.

It was a thought that Stiles decided he should return to, after a little training. Perhaps _he_ could harvest energy from the sun as well.

Mayrin floated up to him, Cucumber and Carrot remaining behind. “Guys, why aren't you coming up here?”

Carrot shook his head. “We can't. It's an ash tree. We can't touch it.”

“Or go over it!” Cucumber added. 

“You can't...” Stiles glanced at the ground beneath him. “What about the grass?”

“The roots.” Carrot shook his head again. “We can't go over there.”

“Is that why Erowin didn't come any closer, yesterday?” Stiles directed the question at Mayrin. His teacher nodded. “Huh. I'm going to have to study that a little closer. Are there any books on the subject?” Stiles would have loved to get his hands on some literature that addressed the matter. Books, scrolls, and notes of any kind would do.

Mayrin nodded. “There are? Where?” Mayrin shrugged. “Oh, so you don't know. Well, I'll ask around, later. Maybe Erowin would know.” Mayrin nodded, and Stiles noted that he seemed to want to move on. Soon, he was pointing at Stiles, and then the little Brownies. 

“Is this a lesson?”

“We don't know.” Cucumber called.

Mayrin floated back down, towards the Brownies, motioning for Stiles to do the same. “I'm coming.” Stiles finished his apple, and then dashed back to the foot of the mound. “Okay, so what am I supposed to do?”

Mayrin pointed at the Brownies again, miming for Stiles to touch them. Stiles did as he was told, and took a Brownie in each hand. They were snugglers, apparently, and crawled up his arms, towards his chest. Soon, he found himself with an armful of fairies. 

Mayrin appeared to approve of their new positioning. “What now? What now?” Cucumber practically vibrated in Stiles arms. 

Mayrin smiled, and then nodded towards the tree. 

“Wait.” Stiles stood still, hoping he was getting this right. “Are you saying that if I carry them, then Cucumber and Carrot can join us on the tree?” Another nod, and Stiles whooped. “I did not know that. Deaton – oh, Deaton was kinda like my last teacher – well, he never said anything about that.”

“Maybe he didn't know?” Carrot added, as Stiles made his way back to his perch. “We didn't.”

“Well, if this is new to you, it'd probably be new to him. I mean, Mayrin is an _ash_ _tree_ spirit. He should know far more than anyone else on the subject.”

Stiles made it to his perch, and sat down. “So, do I have to keep holding them, or can I let them down now?” Stiles waited, before Mayrin gave the affirmative that he could put the little Brownies down. “Oh, good. _Phew._ I am wiped out. Forget what I said earlier, I didn't know what starving _was_ until just now. Oh my god, I need food.” Stiles swatted the fairies away from his breakfast, and began inhaling the meal. “Why am I so hungry?”

“You used up your energy to give us passage.” Carrot explained, while munching on a cookie twice his size. Stiles wondered where the fairy had gotten the cookie from, since it hadn't been with his breakfast, before deciding that he didn't need to know. That was a question for another day.

“It took that much energy? Just to carry you over an ash tree?”

“No.” Carrot shook his head, and glanced at Mayrin for confirmation. “You don't have a lot of energy stored up right now for magical use. You have a lot of energy, but it's... all over the place.”

“And how am I supposed to organize it?” Stiles glanced from fairy to spirit, hoping someone had an answer.

“You just have to keep using it. It'll get better.”

Stiles thought about that, before nodding. “So it's like a muscle. The more I use it, the better able I become.”

“Just don't overdo it.” 

That was a piece of advice Stiles readily agreed to. He was glad that the level headed Brownie could talk better than his companion. Cucumber didn't seem to have the best vocabulary, but Carrot was becoming quite a useful helper. 

“Okay, so for now, I guess the lessons will just be me trying to build up some strength?”

Mayrin and Carrot both nodded.

Cucumber ignored the entire conversation, and snuck away with part of Stiles' breakfast. 

 

 

Stiles had spent the days using his magic whenever possible, in order to build up his endurance. The small task of carrying Carrot and Cucumber up the mound had become little more than an annoyance, but other exercises would leave him weak at the knees. 

Of course, Mayrin's presence left him weak at the knees as well, though that was a thought _definitely_ for another day.

Stiles was sprawled on a log, watching the elves urgently pack, when a hand rested upon his shoulder. Stiles had spent most of that morning and afternoon practicing little spells, and had collapsed onto the log in pure exhaustion.

“You are tired, young Stiles?” Erowin rubbed his shoulder lightly, and Stiles sighed. 

Finally, Stiles sat up enough to give Erowin more room on the log. “I didn't know what tired was, before this. That is really saying something, too... since I have a werewolf for a best friend, and a pack to protect.”

“You are improving.” Erowin smiled, while easing the tension out of Stiles' shoulders. Stiles had learned the previous day that Erowin was in fact a medicinal man, and so had knowledge of many healing arts. Stiles understood even more why Erowin was so upset over his daughter's illness. He was a man of medicine, and yet he could do nothing to ease his daughter's pain?

Stiles had resolved to do all that he could after that, and had practiced even harder that morning. 

Stiles had also learned that men of medicine in the supernatural world also had a gift with magic. Erowin was not a mage, and never would be, but he could make poultices and create potions that no other in the village could. It was for this very reason that Erowin had been made chief of his elven clan. He was a respected elf.

“You can tell that I'm improving?” Stiles leaned into the elf's healing hands, relaxed and comfortable, despite knobbly log beneath him.

“Yes. I can see your energy.”

“You can? How can you tell that I'm improving?”

Erowin laughed, before giving Stiles shoulder a final squeeze, and letting him go. “Your energy flow is a stronger current. Before, it bore the image of waves. It was strong, but inconsistent. Now, your energy flows as one, and grows stronger with each passing day.”

“How can you see my energy?” Stiles was ever curious, and Erowin enjoyed answering his endless questions. 

“I am a man of medicine. The talent to see is an art that one must learn. Perhaps, one day, you can learn it as well.”

Stiles nodded. One more thing to add to his ever growing list. A thought struck him. “Oh, yeah! Erowin, do you have any books on magic? Maybe something on the ash tree? Anything at all?”

Erowin's smile fell. “I am afraid, young mage, that I have no such items. Nor do I know anyone with a book on magic.”

Stiles' face fell. “Oh, well. At least I asked.”

“I can enlighten you upon our Home Tree, though. If that is what you wish.” Stiles straightened, and nodded vigorously. “Then, young Stiles, what do you know of the ash tree?”

“Well, I used mountain ash to create a barrier, once. Everything supernatural was stuck on either side of it, and couldn't cross.”

“Very good. Yes, that is a rather useful aspect of the ash tree. It is a difficult spell to accomplish, though. One must have belief to bring life to a dead tree. Our own ash tree, the Home Tree, is different from what you used. It is alive and flourishing.”

“So it doesn't need me to make it work? It's a supernatural repellant all on its own?”

“Yes. Our Home Tree will allow no magical creature to touch it. When we move, we must pull the tree along behind us with rope.”

“If you can't touch the tree, then why do you keep it? What can Mayrin do as your guardian?”

“Ah, a good question. Honorable Mayrin can manipulate the forces of the tree, and create a barrier around our village and people in times of need. It is a tiring feat, one that Mayrin cannot perform frequently, but it is effective.”

“I bet.” Stiles thought for a moment, questions rampaging around in his head. He didn't want to impose on too much of Erowin's time, since the leader had much to do before they departed, but he did want to ask one last question. “How did you contain the tree? If no one can touch it, then how did you get that gigantic tree out of the ground and planted inside a cart?”

“Ah, now that is something I would have liked to have seen. Legend has it that a passing mage had offered our clan the service, with the promise that we protect him from a beast in return.”

“A beast? What kind of beast?”

“That I do not know. Only one person in this village knows the answer to that.”

“Mayrin?”

“Indeed. According to the legend, the beast was eventually slain, but the mage had been mortally wounded in the process. Our clan had done what they could, but they were simply not strong enough.”

“What happened after that?”

“The mage had been grateful to the clan for their efforts, and saw that they were in need of protection of future beasts that may wander into the village.”

“So he did what?”

“He bound himself to the tree, so that no threat could touch our clan again.”

“He bound-?” Stiles froze. “ _Mayrin?_ Mayrin is the wandering mage?”

“So the story goes. Mayrin has not uttered a word in hundreds of years, so I have never been able to confirm it.”

“Wow. Just. Wow.” 

Stiles glanced back towards the Home Tree, and spotted Mayrin sitting upon a branch. 

Mayrin had done so much for the clan, and yet every elf appeared to be avoiding the mound. They would make long circles around it, and never came within a few yards.

“Thank you for the lesson.” Stiles bowed clumsily to the elven chief, before running back to the tree. 

Mayrin needed some company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna hug Mayrin, but I'd probably go right through him.   
> <3


	8. Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is late. I don't have much excuse, other than the fact that I was lazy. (That, and I started an awesome book, which I can't seem to put down.)  
> In other news, there's a little bit of Peter in this chapter, though not much Mayrin.

Stiles had spent most of the day before the clan's departure with Mayrin. Other than the elven children, most of the clan members appeared to avoid the Home Tree at all costs. Stiles watched as a woman gave the tree a wide berth, walking carefully past it without so much as a glance in Mayrin's direction.

Stiles felt rather disappointed in her.

It was because of this, that Stiles felt a little guilty for leaving Mayrin that afternoon. He had told Erowin of his intentions, and was allowed (with great reluctance) to visit the outer edge of the campsite. A party of elven guards followed closely behind him, which reassured Stiles that he was safe to continue with his plan.

“Peter?”

Stiles ventured a little further into the woods, his guards sticking close. One was so close that Stiles had little room to maneuver.

“Come on, Peter. I know you're out here. Mayrin's been teaching me to sense magical energy.” While that was partially true, Stiles didn't want to admit that he simply sensed _someone's_ magical energy. He wasn't certain who it belonged too, though.

“Stiles.” Stiles and his guards whirled around, and came face to face with a rather relaxed Peter, who was leaning against a tree, as if he had been there all along. He didn't seem to care that there were spears and arrows pointed in his direction.

“You werewolves have got to cut it out with the creepy Batman appearance thing. My heart is not made for that.”

“You called. I came.”

Peter was studying his claws with a languor that spoke of both boredom and danger. If Peter decided that he wanted to use those claws?

Stiles shuddered.

“Stiles, I don't have all day. What do you want?”

Stiles pondered the question for a moment, before deciding how he wanted to go about answering it. “You don't have a mage to perform the ritual you want.”

“That is correct.”

“You need one.”

“Obviously.” Peter rolled his eyes. “Stiles, what is your point?”

“The elves are taking me home. Tomorrow. Why don't you come with us?”

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Because your only mage is leaving. I'm not going to perform that ritual for you. Ever.” Stiles paused, and chose his words carefully. “But, I am the only one, the only mage, who would tolerate you. If you try to kidnap another, you will be killed. Either by the mage, or the ones associated with them. Come with me, back home. Rejoin our pack, and help me figure out how to deal with the alpha problem.”

“You're saying that I have nowhere to go, with no mage to help me?”

“Essentially. You've got nothing else. Your only family is in Beacon Hills. I don't forgive you for kidnapping me, but I might one day be able to, if you come with us and help me.” Stiles stepped closer to Peter, despite the protestations of his guards. “If you stay here, you will be alone. An omega with a limited lifespan. If you follow us unseen, intent to kidnap me again, you will be killed. The elves will not forgive you a second time, nor will I.”

“And if I join you?”

“I will persuade Derek that your intentions were good, but that you saw the error of your ways. You'll live.”

“I will be punished.”

Stiles nodded. “Probably. Derek has a nasty temper.”

Peter groaned. “Why is it that I see logic in your offer?”

“Because I intended for it to be logical?” Stiles stepped closer to Peter, and despite the fear that he still felt when in close proximity to the wolf, he stood his ground. Stiles reached out, and placed a hand on Peter's arm. “Peter, join me. Beacon Hills is the place to be. You've had your revenge. You've killed those responsible for hurting your family. Right now, you've got a nephew in dire need of guidance. We can't leave Derek alone right now. He probably went apeshit after I left, and you know that can't be good for the pack.”

Peter sighed, before removing himself from Stiles' grasp. “I will follow the caravan.”

“To return home?”

Peter glanced upwards, before sighing again. “This would have been much easier if elves hadn't come into it. I loathe those creatures.” After a moment, he answered. “I give you no promises. I will follow, but I will not come near.”

Stiles smiled. “Fair enough.”

“You had to make me feel guilty, didn't you?”

“Well, yeah. I didn't think I'd be able to persuade you otherwise.”

“Mm-hm.” Peter smiled, before reaching inside his bag. He pulled out a thick book, and thrust it at Stiles. “Here. A little birdie told me you wanted one of these.”

Stiles cautiously took the book, and glanced at the cover. _Myths, Mirages, and Magik_.

 _Interesting_ , Stiles thought. The leather-bound book was old, the pages yellowed with age. The cover was cracked in places, and Stiles knew that the book was barely holding itself together.

“Where did you come by this?” He found himself asking.

“My library. Most of my books are enchanted, and were largely unharmed by the fire.”

“Hmm.” Stiles held the book close, afraid that Peter might take back his gift. It was an important memory from before the fire, after all. “Why do you have it with you?”

“Because I thought it might entertain you, as well as provide instruction.” Peter seemed to note the way that Stiles was clutching the book, and scoffed. “It is a gift. I will not take it from you. I have little need for it, now.”

Stiles nodded, before stepping backwards, towards his guards. “Right. Then I'm going now. Back to camp.” Stiles and his guards turned, and began to march back to the campsite. Abruptly, Stiles twisted around, and blurted, “Thanks! For the book, I mean. That birdie was right, I did want one.”

“It was a rather insightful bird, if a bit of an eavesdropper.” Peter added, his lips curved into a familiar smile.

Stiles just hoped he'd made the right decision, convincing Peter to return home with him.

 

 

Stiles was a pretty strong guy. Not strong like a werewolf, maybe, but definitely not helpless when faced with a heavy sack of potatoes, or some such scenario. He had been building up his stamina, both physically and magically, and therefore felt ashamed that the elves would not allow him to walk with the caravan after they had set off.

It was Erowin who convinced him to do as they asked.

“You are our guest.” Erowin explained. “Our guest, as well as an added magical defense. Walking tires the body out, and can strain a mage's abilities if the need arises. In addition, your lessons with Mayrin must continue. Please, sit upon the Home Tree, while we proceed with our travels.”

Stiles couldn't argue with that, and found himself seated on his usual perch a few minutes later. He could have sworn he heard laughter from the direction of the trees, and aimed a glare that way. A cheerful bird call was let loose, and Stiles knew that Peter had chosen an unusual way to communicate with him.

For the next few weeks, Stiles allowed himself to fall into a sort of pattern. They would wake at dawn, and set out for the day. Stiles would either read his book, or learn from Mayrin. Once, Cucumber and Carrot even offered their expertise on storing energy. Apparently, eating large amounts of food was useful in more ways that Stiles had considered.

At the start of their fourth week of traveling, Stiles found himself leaning against the tree, Mayrin at his side, and reading the book Peter had given him. Cucumber and Carrot played on the grass at his feet, and he sent them little smiles every now and then. They were adorable when they weren't getting into trouble.

Usually, his reading time was peaceful. This time was different. Stiles was staring at the book in his lap, a little stunned. If the information he had just read was correct, then perhaps he could use it?

“Mayrin?” His teacher looked up from reading over his shoulder, and nodded. “Is this possible?” Another nod. “So, I can contact people this way?”

Mayrin nodded, but pointed to a small passage.

_Those who deem to employ this connection, beware the strain,_

_For those who see fit to pursue, know well the pain,_

_Though the reward be great, the endeavor not in vain,_

_Know well the effort required to maintain._

“Okay, so it's possible, but really, _really_ hard?” After a short question and answer routine, Stiles learned that he could perform such a spell, but that it would be very hard on him. Not as hard as it would be for others, but still difficult.

Mayrin did seem to think he could do it, though. With proper guidance, that is.

They decided that they would wait a week. Stiles needed to gather up as much energy as possible, while Cucumber and Carrot went in search of the tool he needed.

After that, Stiles studied the spell again, committing it to memory, to be sure that he had all of his information correct. “So, I need a mirror, or some kind of reflective surface?” Mayrin nodded an affirmative. “Okay.” Stiles had read that water was easier to manipulate, but the surface had to be completely calm. Apparently the connection broke so often that is wasn't worth it except in dire situations. Crystals worked best, but he would have to connect to a crystal of similar orientation. Since none of his pack carried around quartz clusters (as far as he knew), a mirror would have to do.

It would be harder, but it could be done. Apparently, mirrors were frequently used in the past for such purposes. Stiles laughed when he imagined the magic mirror from Snow White, or the one used in Beauty and the Beast. He should have thought of it before.

Carrot and Cucumber returned with a mirror generously donated by Erowin's wife, and Stiles thanked her profusely from his perch.

After eight days, Stiles decided he was ready. After gobbling up a large meal for energy, Stiles seated himself carefully against his perch. He didn't want to fall off it while he was working.

Stiles had spent some time trying to decide what mirror he was going to connect to. If he connected to his dad's bathroom mirror, he could wind up in trouble. Either his father wouldn't be around to even hear him, or his dad would have a heart attack. Especially if Derek and the pack hadn't explained to him about his son's recent supernatural activities in his absence.

Scott was hard to pin down, and probably spent very little time in his room at that moment. Stiles was almost certain that Scott was frequently patrolling the town, protection mode at full blast.

Lydia had a compact mirror, but Stiles didn't want to start talking to her when she could be surrounded by cheerleaders. That would be awkward. Not to mention, he'd be revealing the big secret, which was just a no-no. He wasn't even sure if the connection would work with a compact mirror, since the thing was closed half the time. Hence, he wasn't going to try Alison or Erica, either.

Stiles had finally chosen a mirror that he knew would only be in direct contact with the supernatural. Bonus points for Stiles, because he also knew its owner would probably hear him, loud and clear.

Stiles focused his energy, as best he could. The elves around him were quiet, having been told of his latest plan. Mayrin had assured him (through more questions and nods) that the Latin words on the page didn't need to be repeated, because it was the intent and belief that really worked the spell. The words just helped the spellcaster to focus.

Stiles took that to mean that he could say whatever he wanted to motivate himself.

“Show me the Beast!”

Stiles would have chuckled at his Disney reference, but he knew he needed to concentrate. After a moment, Stiles felt a twinge in his left side, and knew that he was doing _something_. A few minutes later, the surface of the mirror clouded, and when it cleared, he could see the familiar seats of the Camaro.

“Wooo! It worked!” Stiles cheered, and lifted the mirror in triumph, before remembering that he needed to focus. “Hey! Hey, Derek! Can you hear me?”

There was a screeching sound, and a string of curses came through loud and clear. Stiles felt just a little guilty. He hadn't thought that Derek would be _driving_ at the time.

“ _Stiles?!_ ”

“Yep, yep! That's me.”

“Where-?”

“Look at your rear-view mirror.”

Derek came into view as the mirror was twisted to face him. “Stiles?”

“Hey, Derek. Wow, you look like shit.” Derek did indeed look like shit. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, and there was a large bruise amassing his face. Lack of sleep was probably screwing with his healing ability.

“Stiles... where are you? And how-?”

“Yeah, magic. I'm contacting you through magic. Which is really, really tiring, by the way. I feel drained.” Which he did. “Soo, you figured out what happened to me?”

“No.” Derek appeared mad at Stiles, but he also looked somewhat relieved. “Only that Peter was involved. He kidnapped you? That's what Lydia suggested.”

“Smart girl. Yes, kidnapped. Currently rescued and on my way home. I'll go into details later. We have other things to talk about.”

“Like what?” Derek seemed to be torn between relief, outrage, and confusion. His face ended up looking somewhat constipated, and Stiles would have laughed if he hadn't been focused upon starting a serious conversation.

“The alphas, Derek.”

Derek's face twisted, and at first Stiles wondered why, until he recognized it: guilt.

“I need to know about these things, Derek. I can't learn about them moments before your crazy uncle knocks me out.”

Derek looked even guiltier, and Stiles softened. The poor wolf was hopeless. “Luckily, I'm coming home. We can deal with this. Peter's even willing to help out. I talked to him, and he wants to make amends.” Actually, Peter had said nothing of the sort. Stiles had forced his hand, and convinced him that coming home was his only option; however, Derek didn't need to know that. Stiles had promised that he would ease Peter's sentence, and he would. Stiles laughed when he heard an aggravated bird call from the forest. Apparently, Peter wasn't pleased with his word choices. “He's coming home, too. Seen the error of his ways, and all that jazz. It's been a crazy month, let me tell you.”

Derek seemed ready to protest, but decided against it. That right there was a telling sign for Stiles that something was wrong.

“Derek, what is it? What's happened?”

Derek looked, if possible, even guiltier. It took some coaxing, but Stiles managed to get Derek to speak up.

“The full moon was a few days ago,” Derek began. “We didn't have any trouble from the alphas, and that seemed odd. We knew they were planning something. We just didn't know what.”

“Derek, what's happened?” Stiles could feel it. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Humans have been disappearing over the last five days. Every day, new reports come in.”

Stiles shook his head. He needed more than that. “How many, Derek? Are they turning up dead?”

“About twelve, so far.” Derek glanced down, biting back whatever he wanted to say. Stiles urged him again. “I can't say how I know...” Derek looked up, and caught Stiles gaze.

“Know what?”

“The alphas are turning them.”

Stiles froze. _Oh crap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh crap, indeed. There'll be a better explanation for what the alphas are planning later. I think I might add Derek's interlude next. If not, then it'll be soon.


	9. Maddening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's been quite some time. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to vanish.  
> Anywho, here's an interlude, from Derek's point of view. Poor dear, I want to give him puppy cuddles or something. A puppy pile might be necessary.   
> Again, if there are any massive errors, feel free to point them out. I've fixed what I've noticed, but I don't notice all of my mistakes.

 Derek had so much on his plate, he wasn't sure which way to turn. He had four newly turned betas to train, one beta who insisted that he wasn't a part of the pack, one undead (slightly insane) uncle, one pissed off family of hunters, and three humans to look after. In addition to that, the alphas had decided _now_ was the best time to show themselves.

Derek shook his head and closed his eyes, wondering if that would make everything go away. Less than a year ago, he had been happily lying on the sofa at Laura's and his apartment, without a care in the world. Yes, he had been bitter, but he had his sister, and that had kept him sane. He'd _always_ had Laura. She was his big sister, his crutch, the one who held him up whenever there was a turn of events. If things got sour, he knew that Laura, his alpha, would be there to help him through it.

Oh, how much his world had changed in just one year. He had the Argents and his uncle to thank for that. The very same uncle who he had _killed_ just a few months prior. The very same uncle who had slunk off once again, and who wouldn't be home for days, if that.

Home. A strange term, which Derek was still trying to get accustomed to. He was _home_ again, though the place itself was nothing more than a burnt out husk. Sooner or later, Derek would start renovating the house, but not until after the mess with the alphas. If the betas helped him, he could turn it into a bonding experience.

Derek smiled at that thought. He needed all the help he could get with his betas. Erica and Boyd were more willing to stay with him after their short time with the alphas, but they were still a rebellious handful. Isaac was much easier to deal with, and far easier to train. The boy was determined to prove his worth, and Derek was more than willing to let him. Jackson was a headache that Derek preferred to ignore when he could. Thankfully, Lydia was there to act as his anchor, and her presence made training somewhat more bearable – when he allowed her to be there, of course.

Scott was a problem that Derek could deal with later. The beta was clearly the strongest of the lot, perhaps even stronger than Peter, and he had sufficient control of his wolf, even on full moons. Derek wasn't quite sure what Scott's relationship with Alison was, but the two were often seen together. Derek was going to assume they were still dating and leave it at that. There were more pressing matters.

Gerard Argent had vanished, and they never could find his body. Derek prayed to anyone who would listen that Gerard was dead, but he knew that things were never that simple. Peter's resurrection only further cemented Derek's fear that Gerard was skulking about somewhere, biding his time.

At least the Argents had backed off once Gerard had left them. Chris Argent was once more in charge, and the man seemed determined to follow the code. Derek knew that the man could still pose a threat, and he would be keeping an eye on him, but the situation wasn't nearly as dire as it could have been.

Then there were the humans to think about.

The Hale pack had included humans before, but that was when they were stronger. Most of the previous human members had been family – pack by blood. Lydia, Alison, and Stiles were related to no one. They were a burden, if anything.

They were horrifyingly mortal.

If someone forgot their strength or lost their temper, the humans would find themselves in grave danger. They were soft, easy to break, easy to slice, dice, and spit out. Derek shuddered at the thought of coming home to a bloody mess. To the thought of finding Stiles cold on the ground, his eyes glazed over.

_Stiles._

Stiles was something else. Something Derek had never encountered before. For some reason, Derek could stand to see Lydia and Alison fight alongside him, but the thought of losing Stiles – the only _normal_ one in their pack – it was unthinkable.

Alison was a fighter. She had proven that she could more than hold her own against a wolf. She was an Argent, a hunter. Derek wasn't as worried about her, though he did keep certain details from her as well as the other humans. For their own safety, of course.

Lydia was immune. She had no knowledge of the supernatural before now, but she had built in defenses in place. Derek was sure that there was more to her than meets the eye, and knew that she would be a vital addition to pack. Her intelligence alone had proven helpful, even when she had no clue what she was helping with. Very few people could read archaic Latin, and that was an asset in and of itself.

Stiles had apparently been working on it, according to Scott, but once again, Derek couldn't help but keep Stiles out of things. He was the weakest link. The one that would slow them down.

Derek continued to repeat this to himself, even when that little voice in his head reminded him that everyone would be dead without Stiles. That Stiles had saved his life numerous times. That Stiles had courageously come rushing into battle, at the last minute, and provided them with the help they needed to win.   
Stiles was clever, perhaps as clever as Lydia, and he always seemed to be the one to figure things out first. He was always the one with the solution.

Derek knew this, but he was also painfully aware of how vulnerable Stiles was. Out of every member of the pack, Stiles had been hurt the most, kidnapped the most, put in danger the most. Stiles always seemed to gain unwanted attention, and this time – _this time_ – Derek was going to ensure Stiles' safety. The Alphas were not going to touch him.

Not if Derek had something to do with it.

 

 

Derek was certain that his plan would work. As long as he kept the humans in the dark, then they would be safe. Stiles would be safe.

Stiles wouldn't go sticking his head where it didn't belong. He wouldn't garner the attention of every alpha in town.

Derek was aware that Stiles had some sort of magnetism. Peter had shown interest in him before, and now Derek was starting to feel it. An _attraction_ of some sort. Derek was sure it had something to do with being alpha, and that was all the more reason to keep Stiles hidden away. As long as the alpha pack never got wind of him, then he would be fine.

Derek was reassuring himself of this fact when Scott burst into the room, growling furiously.

“You said he would be safe!”

Derek took a step forward, his eyes flashing red in warning. Scott needed to calm down.

“I said who would be safe?” Derek had a sinking feeling in his gut, and worried that he knew the answer before it was provided.

“ _Stiles._ You said that if we kept him in the dark, he would be safe. That nothing would happen to him.”

“What happened?” Derek couldn't bear it if Stiles had been taken by the alphas, but there was no proof that he had been. After all, they had all seem him... when was the last time anyone had heard from Stiles?

“Stiles wasn't in school today. Or yesterday. I thought maybe he was out sick, but then I remembered that Stiles _never_ misses school. Not unless he _has_ to.” Scott was pacing by this point. “He's not picking up his phone, so I called his dad. Only, his dad's been at work all weekend, and thought he was out with us whenever he didn't see Stiles. I told him no, I haven't seen Stiles since school on Friday, and that really freaked his dad out. He hasn't seen him since then, either.”

Scott rounded on Derek. “I've been calling him and calling him, and he isn't picking up. You said he would be safe!”

“Do you know that the alphas took him?”

“Where else would he be?!”

Derek growled lightly. “Have you checked his room?”

“Yes! Nothing's out of place. He hasn't been there in days.”

“Scott, what I mean by check his room is, have you _smelt_ anything thing out of place. Is there a scent that shouldn't be there? Did you use your senses?”

“Yes-I-well.”

“Scott?”

“Well, now that I think about it, there wasn't _any_ scent.”

“None?”

“I didn't really think about it, because Stiles is always trying out new plants that Deaton gives him. I just thought one of them got rid of his scent.”

“Why would he do that in his own room? Without using you to test it out?”

“I don't know. It's fishy, I get that now! You can stop glaring at me, since this is your fault.”  
Derek reeled back at that. “How is this _my_ fault?”

“Because you said to keep Stiles in the dark. To not let him figure out what was going on. You said he would be safe that way, so I went along with it... but, I haven't been hanging out with him, lately. No one has. He's been all by himself...” Scott began to pace once more. “That was such a stupid idea! We basically _handed_ Stiles to them. Anyone could figure out that he's our friend.” Scott paused. “My friend,” he corrected. “ _My_ friend, who I left alone, without any protection.”

“I didn't tell you to leave him alone.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to keep him out of the loop? He's really, really smart, Derek. One night with the pack, and Stiles would have the whole thing figured out. We don't exactly talk about anything else, and it'd be really awkward trying not to.”

Derek huffed in anger, and began pacing about the room as well. Scott was right. This was his fault. Stiles was missing, and no one had even been there to _notice_.

“Who else knows that Stiles is missing?”

“His dad knows, and is freaking out. I figure that everyone'll know by tomorrow. His dad is going to think the worst...”

“We can't tell him.”

“I know that!”

“I know. Calm down. Call the others. Tell them it's an immediate pack meeting...” Derek thought for a moment, before coming to a decision. “Humans are required to attend as well.”

Scott nodded, sent Derek one last glare, and dashed out of the room. Derek sighed, and collapsed onto the sofa, his face in his hands.

There was too much to do. Too much to handle.

Not for the first time, Derek wished his sister were there.

 

 

The pack was situated about the room, each member fully at attention.

Jackson appeared as if he couldn't care less that Stiles was missing, but the way he worried his bottom lip gave him away. Lydia had a reassuring hand on Jackson's arm, and Derek knew why. A pack member was missing. Whether he cared for Stiles or not, Jackson's wolf was instinctively angry at the intrusion of pack territory.

Derek didn't like to consider Stiles _territory_ or _property_ , but that was probably how Jackson had labeled it.

Erica and Boyd looked more than a little scared, and Derek knew it had something to do with their own time with the alphas. They hadn't revealed much from that time, only that escaping had been almost impossible, and that it was not a pleasant experience. Derek feared that torture had been involved, but didn't feel he had the right to press.

Scott was still pacing, as if that would solve the problem. He was probably aching to get out there, and search for Stiles again. Derek would let him, once the meeting was over. They needed a plan, first and foremost, but he wouldn't deny Scott the chance to look for his friend. Scott probably wouldn't listen to him anyway, if he told him he couldn't.

Alison was on the phone, probably with her father, judging by her tone of voice and word choices. She was reassuring him that she would tell him everything she could, but later, once she had all the facts. Derek would let her, once the meeting was finished. Stiles was human, and that meant the Argents might be willing to help him. He would take the help, if it meant they might still be alive by end of the year.

Isaac was pacing beside Scott, though it seemed to be more in an attempt to calm his fellow packmate down. Every now and then, his hand shot out to steady Scott. After whispering soothing words, Scott would begin to pace again, though a little less frantically. Alison shot them a measured look, but said nothing.

Interesting.

“Where's Peter?” Derek asked, once they were all assembled.

“How should I know?” Jackson retorted. “How should any of us know?”

“And why should we care?” Erica added. “If he wants to skip out on a meeting, let him.”

Derek growled faintly at this, before sighing in defeat. His uncle would probably slink into the room soon enough. In the meantime, Derek's time would be better spent planning.

“When was the last time anyone saw Stiles?” Derek decided it was best to start with the basics. They had to get their facts straight.

“I saw him Friday, at school.” Isaac pitched in. “He got into his car after lacrosse practice, and said he was headed home.”

“That was the last time I saw him, too.” Scott glanced down, in shame. Isaac rushed to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Scott glanced up, and smiled faintly at his friend.

Isaac didn't seem to realize that he was blushing. Profusely.

Derek watched the exchange in mild interest, before turning to the rest of his pack. Each one confirmed that Friday was the last time anyone saw Stiles. There was nothing more for his pack to go on. No other clues that could help them to locate their missing packmate.

“We need to do a thorough search of his house, his yard, and his car.” Lydia glanced at Derek, silently asking if she could take over their planning. He nodded, and she stood. “We need to look everywhere. Each of you needs to use every sense you have. Sight, smell, hearing, the whole lot.”

“Not a stone will go unturned.” Derek began to pace again. “We have to consider every option – and where is Peter?” Usually by this point, Peter would have shown up, added a snarky (yet useful) comment, and generally annoyed the crap out of everyone.

“Does he usually skip meetings?” Lydia asked, rather sincerely.

Derek thought about it for a moment. “No. He never misses.”

“Does he contact you on a regular basis?” Lydia continued.

“Yes. If he can annoy me every moment of every day, all the better.”

“And yet, the first time Peter goes missing, so is Stiles?”

“Where are you going with this?” Jackson turned to his girlfriend. “No one cares about Peter.”

“Unless you're suggesting that the alphas took Peter, too?” Derek stopped pacing and turned to give Lydia his full attention.

“Actually, I'm thinking the alphas have nothing to do with this exchange.”

“What?” This time, it was Scott who rounded on Lydia. “Who else could have kidnapped Stiles?”

“Peter,” she answered simply.

All Derek could say was, “what?” Scott echoed him.

“Think about it.” Lydia glanced at each of them, before sighing. “Peter had always had a strange fascination with Stiles. Like that time he kidnapped him after the dance.” At their blank looks, Lydia frowned. “After Peter bit me, he kidnapped Stiles.” Again, their faces were blank. Lydia waved a hand in exasperation. “Are you telling me that no one knew where Stiles was that night?”

Scott began to look guilty again, and Derek couldn't blame him. No, Derek hadn't thought about where Stiles had been before the showdown with Peter began that night. To be fair, Derek had been chained up beneath his property at the time, and Scott had been out looking for him.

Still, they should have known after the fact.

“Unbelievable.” Lydia sat down again, after glaring at each of them in turn. Derek wasn't sure about the details, but it seemed that Lydia and Stiles had come to some form of agreement within the last few months. “When was the last time anyone saw Peter?”

Derek had to think about it, before coming to an unsettling conclusion. “Friday.”

“I'm not saying that Peter _did_ kidnap Stiles, I'm only suggesting the possibility.” Lydia folded her hands in her lap. “Every time the whole pack is together, I've noticed him staring at Stiles. Pardon my poor word choice, but he stares like a dog in heat.”

Jackson mouths “dogs jokes, Lydia?” She simply shakes her head at him.

“I thought you all noticed. I thought _that_ was why you were keeping Stiles away from meetings. I was allowed to most of the pack meetings, while Stiles was barred to _all_ of them. It made little sense, unless you knew that the Big Bad Wolf was fixated on Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Stop with the references,” Jackson pleaded, while Derek whirled around and growled at no one in particular.

“This is getting us nowhere.” Alison stood, and glanced about the room. “Stiles is missing. We don't know who took him, but odds are, it was a werewolf.” Derek calmed down enough to look at her. The other human. It seemed the human members of the pack were more put together than the wolves were.

Maybe he should have included them sooner?

Lydia smiled at Alison, before continuing. “Let's start looking. There's nothing we can do, until we have more clues.”

Derek nodded. “Then we'll look for clues.”

 

 

They didn't find anything. For days, they searched, but to no avail. Stiles had simply vanished.

The Sheriff was full-on panicking after two days, especially after the news got wind of his predicament. A small news van showed up one day, interviewing everyone, and generally making things worse. They focused on the sheriff, before his deputies scared them off.

After that, they started on Scott.

Scott couldn't do much, not without compromising himself and the pack, but thankfully Scott's mother stepped up to the plate. With an actual bat.

Eventually, the news program became bored of the story, and all there was left to show they had been around were a few small newspaper articles. Derek was glad they were gone, but the damage had been done. Stiles' father was a wreck.

“Mom says we need to tell him.” Scott had been staring at his dinner, barely munching away before he spoke. The rest of the pack looked up.

“Tell who? Tell them what?” Erica put her own dinner down, Boyd following suit.

“The Sheriff. He needs to know where Stiles might be. He at least needs to know the _truth._ He needs to know what danger we're all in. Maybe it'll help his search.”

“It might make it worse.” Derek sighed, and set his own meal down. “He might go storming into the forest, looking for the alpha pack. I don't think Stiles' would be very happy about that.”

“He might not even want his dad to know.” Lydia chimed in. “You could be letting the cat, or rather the wolf, out of the bag without his permission.”

“He needs to know.” Scott insisted. “I didn't think mom needed to know, I thought it would protect her. Look where keeping people in the dark has gotten us.”

“Scott has a point.” Alison added. “My family kept me in the dark, and it never ended well. We need to tell him, at least so we can keep him out of the forest.”

Scott beamed at Alison, causing her to blush. Derek glanced at Isaac, and saw that the boy had attempted to make himself smaller. Someone needed to do something about this soon.

“Fine.” Derek conceded that perhaps keeping the sheriff in the dark wasn't such a great idea. “We'll tell him together.”

“He's home tonight.” Scott added, not so subtly.

“We'll go tonight.” Derek agreed. He only hoped Stiles would forgive him for making this decision.

 

 

The sheriff had taken the news surprisingly well. He had needed proof, but that was easily provided. Apparently, the sheriff had known all along that something wasn't right, he just couldn't figure out what element was missing. Monsters and magic hadn't been on his list, but it fit well enough into the story.

Convincing the sheriff not to go storming into the forest was another matter entirely. They didn't know if the alphas had taken Stiles, or if Peter had, but they didn't have enough information, nor did they have enough strength.

Oddly enough, the alphas had not done a thing after Stiles went missing. It was unnerving, but not unwelcome. Derek knew his pack wasn't ready to take on a group of seasoned alphas.

They had to prepare.

Between searching for Stiles, and daily pack meetings, Derek found himself with very little free time. This was probably a good thing, since every time Derek had a moment to himself, he started thinking about Stiles. He started thinking about all sorts of things.

He thought about what Stiles meant to him. He thought about what he could have done differently. He wondered if he should have included Stiles more in the pack. “Yes,” his mind would supply to that thought. He had left Stiles out, completely ignored him even, and that had turned out disastrously.

Yet, Derek couldn't think of any other way that he could have handled the situation. There was something about Stiles that drove Derek mad, and not necessarily in a bad way. Stiles was clever, far _too_ clever, and he would have figured it out.

He would have known what Derek often considered in the darkest parts of his mind.

Stiles was tempting, so very tempting.

It hadn't been that way at first. When Derek first saw Stiles, he hadn't thought much of him. Just the gangly best friend of his new brother. Just an insignificant bystander who kept getting in his way.

At least, that was how he felt before Stiles started showing his worth. Started saving his _life_. On more than one occasion, no less. Stiles was loyal, to a point that Derek found it easy to consider him pack, even before Derek became an alpha _._ Stiles was easy to trust, and not just to a point, but to trust wholeheartedly. Derek had denied it at first, insisted that he didn't trust Stiles, but he had been lying. After that evening in the pool, Derek couldn't deny it. Stiles was the most trustworthy one amongst the pack.

He was trustworthy, loyal, clever, stubborn, surprisingly resilient, and oh so _tempting_. Every time Stiles opened his mouth to challenge Derek's authority, all the alpha could think about was claiming those full lips for his own.

Stiles was insufferable, frankly annoying as hell, and so very tempting, to the point that all Derek could do was ignore him. If he ignored him, if he pretended that Stiles didn't exist, then maybe he wouldn't be in danger of defiling the sheriff's sixteen-year-old son.

He couldn't very well explain this to his pack, though. This desire that drove him wild every time Stiles came within a mile of Hale property. It was infuriating, how badly he desired the _sheriff's son_. He hoped that by repeating this in his head, like a mantra, he could control himself. The sheriff's son, the sheriff's son, the _sheriff's son._

It hadn't been working. His wolf knew a perfect mate when he saw one, smelt one, heard one, _touched_ one. It was all he could do not to sink his teeth into supple young flesh, and let his wolf _taste_ his chosen mate.

It was maddening.

And now, now Stiles was missing. His wolf howled at the intrusion of his territory. At the thought that someone had taken what was _his,_ before he had even given in to his desire.

He was guilt-stricken at the thought that his attempts to avoid Stiles had led to the boy's kidnapping. If only he had given in. If only he had explained the situation to Stiles, then maybe this wouldn't have happened.

Only, he was scared. Derek was terrified. Everyone knew how obsessed Stiles was with Lydia. Nothing could come between that. Derek knew that if he made a move, he would be rejected, and that wasn't something he could handle.

Above all, Derek couldn't risk manipulating Stiles into a relationship. Derek knew firsthand how it felt to be put in that position, and although his intentions were different, he was not going to go there. Stiles was too young to know what he wanted. To know the difference between desire and love. Derek would never force Stiles into such a position. It was simply unthinkable.

He wished that his sister were here. She would know what to do. She would have all the answers. That was how they operated. Derek would become overwhelmed with emotions, and Laura would be there, with all the answers.

Never again.

The month passed, with no word on Stiles' whereabouts, and no sign of the alpha pack.

It was, truly and horrendously, maddening.


End file.
